This is the Way the World Ends
by Valtiel Valentine
Summary: Leon Kennedy fights hard, drinks hard and is hard to handle. He's also the first line of defense in the war against Bio Organic Weapons. In the aftermath of Resident Evil 6, Americas leading scientists start dying in gruesome ways. As Leon investigates a suspected B.O.W committing the murders, a dark journey to Vendetta begins. (Prequel to "Whatever I Am, You Made Me")
1. Do You See What I See?

**Authors Note:** Here we go again - This is a prequel to 'Whatever I am, You made me'. Starting directly after Resident Evil 6. You know the drill - bad language, sex, violence.. and some jokes. Buckle up, we're gonna see some sh*t!

* * *

 **May your dreams bring you peace in the darkness**  
 **May you always rise over the rain**  
 **May the light from above always lead you to love**  
 **May you stay in the arms of the angels**  
 **May you always be brave in the shadows**  
 **till the sun shines upon you again**  
 **Hear this prayer in my heart and we never will part**  
 **May you stay in the arms of the angels.**

 **\- Maggie Siff, 'Lullaby for a Soldier'**

* * *

A crackle of thunder rumbled across the midnight sky, followed a moment later by a brilliant, illuminating flash as lightning streaked in sharp taloned claws across the ominous clouds. Rain battered rooftops and streets below, pattering against glass windows, a monotonous song. Leon's boot crunches over broken glass as he steps close to the edge, a floor to ceiling window pane shattered ahead of him, looking out over a gloomy sleeping city. He lowers his gun to his side, peering over the precipice. A twelve floor drop to the saturated streets below, where a body lay broken, blood carried by the river of rain and washed down to the depths of the city storm drains.

"Jesus," Sherry Birkin breathes behind him, a little to his right. He lifts his eyes from the body as paramedics surround it and begin the process of loading the former scientist in to a bag. His eyes narrow, looking out in to the stormy night and feeling the wind whip his hair back from his face, droplets of rain sting his skin.

"Reinforced glass, designed to withstand the force a goddamn RPG." Chris Redfield arrives at his side and peers down at the bloody mess in the street. "I think it's safe to say, he didn't jump."

The tiniest smirk turns up the corners of Leon's mouth. In this business, you took the humor where you could get it.

"He just had it installed," Leon says thoughtfully, "paperwork in his desk tells us he developed a big hard on in the last three months for his personal safety. New alarms fitted, he was even working on a panic room." He gestures slightly toward a door to the left of them with a keypad on the side. As far as they could tell, it was untouched.

"You go to all the trouble of installing safety glass and a panic room, then you don't even open it up when the Devil comes knocking." Chris follows Leon's gaze.

Leon looks back to the broken window in front of them, scanning every sharp, broken edge in the thick glass.

"Maybe the Devil didn't announce himself," Leon muses, turning his head to look over at Sherry as she sifted through security camera footage at the desk of the victim. "Anything?"

"Nothing. There's video up until he arrives home, he takes a shower, sits down with a drink and then.. nothing."

"Erased footage?" He asks.

"No. I mean.. there's nothing." Sherry looks over to him, "it's like the cameras just started recording a void. It's still rolling, but the screens are all black. Happens at the exact same time on all four of them." She sits back in her chair and folds her arms. "How is that even possible?"

"Kid if I know one thing about the world these days, it's that anything's possible." Chris sighs.

"What are you people doing here? This is a crime scene." They're interrupted by a surly Police chief with his hands on his hips.

Leon digs in to the inner pocket of his leather jacket and produces his ID, bringing it over to the evidently 'not paid enough for this shit' chief. "Leon Kennedy. My colleague Sherry Birkin of the Division of Security Operations and this is Chris Redfield with the BSAA." He gestures to his friends and co-workers. The Chief looks bored.

"Is that supposed to mean something to me?"

"The victim is Dr Stephen Jackson, he works for a scientific sector of the Government. Researching Bio Organic Weapons. He's pretty high up the food chain." Leon folds his ID back up and returns it to his pocket.

"Somehow he figured out a way to throw himself through reinforced glass, unseen by his four security cameras, after spending a small fortune on turning this place in to a homely version of Alcatraz." Redfield chimes in. "In my world, doing the impossible means you're special."

"So.. what? He's a zombie? Some kind of mutant? This an X-men deal?" The Police Chief snorts, he'd obviously seen enough in tenure on the force and was beyond jaded at this point. Leon kind of knew the feeling.

"No." Leon returns an equally unimpressed stare, "it means someone really wanted a very important person very dead. And they succeeded."

"I see." The Chief sighs. "So what do I put in our report? We've got a body in three pieces out there."

"You put nothing in your report. Sherry..." Leon glances to his younger protegee and she nods, getting to her feet and presenting the Chief with her brightest smile. "If you come with me, we can get some relevant documents signed. This investigation will be under our control."

The Chief looks around all three of them, muttering as he's turned away. "Hookers, junkies, street thugs.. undead goddamn monsters.."

Leon smirks again as the voice fades away down the hall, then returns his attention to the crime scene before him. Something else occurring to him as he looks it over. "The pattern of the shattered glass." He gestures, bringing Redfields attention back to it also. "That's not just wind blowing in some shards."

Chris puts his hands on his hips and studies it.

"That was broken from the outside." Leon finishes. The pair of them looking out of the window and across the street. The nearest building was three lanes and two sidewalks away, it was not jumpable. And there were no fire escapes on this side of the building.

"So someone repelled off the roof and had leverage enough to break RPG proof glass hanging off of a rope?" Chris makes a face.

"Like Sherry said.. Impossible." Leon says quietly.

"I prefer it when I just have to shoot shit in the head." Chris shakes his head.

"All things considered, I think they were just being extra cautious calling you in." Leon looks at him.

"They're trying to keep me busy," Chris shrugs, "think they're expecting me to slip in to another bout of amnesia any second."

Leon sighs, "I heard about Piers. I'm sorry."

Chris nods. "He was a good kid."

"China took a lot from everybody." Leon turns away, beginning to leaf through more items in the expensive looking apartment.

"Yeah. How are you doing?" Chris does the same, their backs to one another as they talked.

"I'm.." he hesitates, what could he possibly tell the other man about what happened over there that wouldn't cause either another fight, or another meltdown? "I'm alright."

"I'm sorry. About Ada."

Leon closes his eyes, drawing in a measured breath. The two of them hadn't seen each other since Lanshiang five months ago, since they'd drawn weapons on each other and come to blows over Ada. Chris wanted her dead, Leon would protect her with his life. Chris had promised him in the end he wouldn't hurt her, that he'd take her in alive. But still, Leon had received a message from the man that had broken a part of his heart he hadn't even fully acknowledged until then. For a handful of hours he'd thought Ada to be dead, and despite hell rising all around him, she was all he'd been able to think about.

All the might have beens and what ifs?

And then there she was, hovering over him in a helicopter. Saving his life – again. He'd lept from the side of a burning skyscraper that night to save hers in return. She was alive, the woman Chris blamed for the death of his men in Edonia – alive. Leon was relieved, but Chris? Chris had no idea. He was three months sober and trying to get his life together. Leon wasn't about to bring that all crashing down around him.

"I shouldn't have brought her up," Chris apologizes again as Leon quiets. Lost in thought.

"It is what it is," Leon murmurs. Picking up a stack of papers and leafing through them, then dropping them down in disinterest. "She made her own decisions."

Chris clicks his tongue in his mouth and slowly nods, reaching the bathroom door and peering in to the dark room. He fumbles for a light switch and as he does, he looks back to Leon. "Tell me to fuck off if you want but.. what was with you and her?"

Leon lets out the slightest laugh, "just a whole lot of history, that's all."

"You have strange taste in women my brother." Chris chuckles, finally finding the light switch.

"Says the man that's been trying to ask Jill Valentine out for the past fifteen years, is it?" Leon picks up a pan that hadn't been cleaned and makes a face, dropping it down in to the sink.

"Well – fuck me." Chris says out loud. Leon frowns.

"No offense but you're not my type."

"No, you idiot. I mean fuck – me."

Leon emerges from the kitchen and moves across to the bathroom, joining Chris. He stops in his tracks, his eyes trailing up along the wall.

"What the hell is that?" Leon murmurs, moving to stand centrally before a circular symbol painted in blood. A circle within a circle, on the inside what almost looked like Runes, but nothing like the ones Leon remembered from books.

"This is some witchcraft shit." Chris grumbles.

Leon pulls out his phone and takes a photo, then lowers it again and stares. "We need to get the lab boys in here, see if that's Jacksons blood."

"I'll get the betting pool started." Chris grimaces and ducks out of the room, getting on his radio. Leon remains staring at the symbol. Something about it sent a chill creeping up his spine, and he saw his share of creepy shit. Usually it was creepy shit lumbering toward him wanting to suck out his insides though. Something about this left him cold.

"So much for my vacation.." he mutters, finally turning away.

* * *

He smothers her panting breaths with his own, an almost suffocating kiss as he works his body against hers. A handful of her hair between his fingers, hers claw down his back leaving a trail of red welts that added fuel to his fire. His hips snap into hers, that satisfying sound of skin meeting skin filling the room.

The need for air becomes desperate, and instead he smears his lips down along her neck, biting a little harder than intended and making her moan, he leaves his mark on her as she had on him.

Sweat slicked bodies work together, driving one another on toward the blissful oblivion of release.

He had no fucking idea what her name was.

His hand reaches down, grasping her ass for more leverage. A powerful taking of this woman he met maybe three hours ago at the bar below his apartment. She made a lot of noise, and while that thrilled him his neighbors would likely be sticking another note to his door by morning. A wicked grin at that thought flashes across his features and takes her lips again, enjoying the way she moaned in to kisses. Angling his hips just right, he drives her off that edge of tolerance and she jerks and trembles beneath him, ripping herself away from that kiss to cry out and digging her manicured fingernails into his lower back. He doesn't let up, fucking her through her pleasure and straight in to his.

He crashes in to heaven like a drunkard at the pearly gates. A growl and curse of his own as he buries himself in this gorgeous stranger and for a moment, all the horrors of the world bleed away. Nothing but a perfect, all natural high that gives away to a numb, carefree nothing.

She was talking. He had no idea what she was saying, his ears were ringing and honestly he didn't really care. He shuts her up with one last, lazy kiss and then eases from her, flopping on to his back and basking in his own bliss for a while. After a minute, he realizes she's still talking about something and gets to his feet without a word, padding off to the bathroom to take care of the usual aftermath of protected sex with a complete fucking stranger.

He washes up and pulls on some sweats, hoping she's gone when he emerges. Alas, no such luck tonight.

"Can I get you anything?" Leon asks as he scratches the back of his neck and heads to his kitchen.

"What do you have?" She asks, still lying on his bed in her stiletto heels and nothing else.

He opens his fridge. "Beer, beer, beer.. eggs." He looks back at her. "Or whiskey."

She wrinkles her nose. "Water?"

"I can do that." He nods, getting a glass and filling it from a bottle in his fridge. He wouldn't subject the poor woman to the cities tap water. He had no idea what her name was but she didn't deserve that. He cracks open a beer for himself and brings her the glass. Handing it over then moving to his couch. It's pretty clear she was expecting him to settle in for some cuddling, but that was not on his agenda tonight.

He watches her out of the corner of his eye, while flicking through the channels on his TV. She takes a few sips then starts to get herself dressed.

"Well.. thankyou. For the drink and.." she gestures to the bed. He nods, taking a sip from his bottle.

"Yeah, was fun."

"Should do it again some time.." she suggests with a shrug.

"Sure, if I see you around." It's harsh. He knows it's harsh. But honestly, after the beating he'd taken from women lately, he was all out of fucks to give.

"Do you want my number?"

His bottle pauses before his lips, and while the answer was actually 'no', he cuts her some slack and gets to his feet. "Sure." He rips the corner off of a letter on his coffee table and brings it over to her for her to scribble it down on. Then shows her to the door. "You okay to get home?" he asks quietly, leaning against the door frame.

She nods. "I'll just get a cab."

"Alright, be safe out there." He offers her a smile and she leans in, kissing him. He returns it with the most casual shift of his lips, not adjusting his lean an inch. But he does watch her as she disappears down the hallway, her ass looked magnificent in that tight fitting dress. He scratches his bare chest and makes some kind of rumbling noise of appreciation, then the door to his neighbors apartment opens.

The death stare he receives.

"Do you think you could keep it down?"

Leon smirks, giving his uptight neighbor and small nod. "Sure, I'm all done anyway. Goodnight."

"Asshole."

Leon hears it, but he couldn't care less. Kicking the door shut behind him he thuds across the wooden floor of his apartment and back to the couch. "Natalie.." he says thoughtfully, looking at the scrap of paper with her name and number on, "huh. Could have sworn it was Nadia." He shrugs and drops the scrap down on to his coffee table. Reaching for the bottle of Jack Daniels sitting there. He pours himself a full glass and settles in to drown his demons. Sex and alcohol, it was the only way he got any sleep these days. That and reruns of Friends.

"Leon.."

"Uhn.."

"Leon, Earth to Leon?"

"Wha..." He drags a hand over his face as the fog of hangover reminds him he's still alive, blearily opening his eyes he discovers he's on the floor, wedged between his table and his couch.

"It's almost midday."

"It's my day off.." He slurs, looking up to see Claire Redfield with her arms folded, looking down at him.

"And you were supposed to meet me for breakfast."

"How did you get in here?" He pushes himself up to his hands and knees and lifts a hand to his hair, groaning. "I feel like a pig shat in my head."

"I'm not surprised. Was that a whole bottle when you started?" Claire sighs, picking up the empty glass bottle and taking it over to the trash. Leon pulls himself onto the couch and sits with his head in his hands. The sounds of bottles clinking make his ears ring. Claire gathers up four more empty beer bottles and drops them in the trash too.

"I'm beginning to think you need to be on the same program as Chris." Claire tuts.

Leon drops his hands from his head and looks at her. "How DID you get in here?"

"I have a key."

"Since when?"

"Since you got back from China and we thought you were dead."

"What?" he looks mystified.

"Chris was worried you'd go off the deep end about Ada. He didn't want to bug you. So when I paid a visit, I had one cut. I'm very cunning." She smiles brightly at him.

"Well.. I'm still here. Very much in the shallow end." He reaches for his glass to check for any last drops of whiskey and discovers nothing. Hauling himself to his feet instead.

"Oh no.. no you don't." She swipes the glass from his hand and laughs, "you are done. Shower. Now.. you stink of booze and... ew, women."

She maneuvers him toward his bathroom and in his hungover state he has no choice but to go. She starts the shower running and gets him some towels.

"How do you know where all my shit is?" He asks, completely bemused.

"Just get in the shower. I'll make you some breakfast." She orders.

He considers the contents of his fridge and smirks. "Good luck."

She shuts the bathroom door behind her and for a moment he stands there, clutching his towel and looking at the rising steam. Then he bolts to the toilet and loses the contents of his stomach. So maybe he had overdone it a little last night, he'd gotten through a good whole bottle of cheap vodka at the bar, then a whole bottle of Jack and four beers at home. He was confident his liver was trying to escape through his throat.

He retches until there's nothing left, then staggers to his feet. Washing his mouth out at the sink and then drinking directly from the tap. He makes a face. The cities water tasted like lead. It probably was.

Sighing, he drags his hands through his hair and switches off the faucet, staring at himself in the mirror. He looked a goddamn mess. Pale and washed out, eyes bloodshot, his trademark hair clinging to his forehead. "Get your shit together, fuckface." He mutters, splashing cold water on his face and then heading for that shower. It's bliss, and he stands under the hot water with his face tilted toward it, letting it rain down upon him. It's as he stands there that reality begins to seep back in. His body ached. Five months down the line and he still felt like he'd just had the shit kicked out of him by Simmons in China. His shoulder clicked when he moved, his back crunched with every turn. His hip was agony with every step. Scars both inside and out caused nerve pain that shot around his body like little scalpel blades slowly cutting away at his sanity. How many years had he been fighting the undead now? He'd lost track.

He needed a drink.

Getting out of the shower he wraps a towel around his waist and brushes his teeth. He looked a bit more human. Leaving, he's hit by the smell of breakfast. Claire hadn't boiled eggs in beer like he'd assumed she would, instead she'd thought ahead and brought things with her to make it with. He pads over to her and as she turns to say something to him he grabs her face and plants a kiss on her lips.

She hits him with a greasy spatula. "Get off me!"

"I'm just saying thanks." He laughs, letting her go and ducking away from another whack with a cooking utensil.

"I don't know where you've been." She eyes him.

"Her name was Nadia." He nods confidently, getting some coffee. He pauses as he pours it. "Natalie!"

"You're disgusting." Claire wrinkles her nose. "And would you put some clothes on?"

He flashes her a smile and threatens to take off his towel. She threatens him with a hot spatula to the balls.

Five minutes later he returns for more coffee, with a pair of loose fitting sweatpants riding his hips. Claire rolls her eyes and dishes up their food. Setting it out on the table.

"You're an angel." He thanks her, sitting down and digging in.

"Yeah, well, this was supposed to be on you." Claire huffs, sitting opposite him and doing the same.

"Next time." he promises.

"Right, you might have to go a night without getting deadass drunk though." She gestures.

"I can do that."

"Can you?"

He sighs, "don't. Don't give me a hard time for fucking... coping." He was suddenly serious, and eyes her over a slice of toast.

"I'm not. I know it's hard. But there's other ways."

"I've tried other ways." He grumbles. "I've done their therapy, no amount of talking about it takes away what's in my head."

"It's in my head too."

"Well -" he shrugs, "- congratulations. Claire Redfield. You're the strongest Raccoon City Survivor. You win the fluffy doll."

"Don't be an asshole." She scowls at him.

"Well don't turn up at my place like an episode of Judge Judy!" he retorts.

"I'm just worried about you!" Claire defends herself. "If I'm honest, a lot of people are."

"I swear to god if you intervention me I will throw myself out that window." he nods to the kitchen window.

"I'm not going to intervention you. Nobody is."

"You guys nailed Chris with that shit."

"Well Chris is my brother."

"And I'm just the scumbag you meet for breakfast on a Saturday."

Claire picks up her coffee and levels a gaze at him. "Have you talked to anybody about Ada?"

He looks away from her, down to his plate. Stabbing some eggs.

"Leon.."

"Claire.." he echoes her voice.

"You need to get that out. You lost someone you care about."

"You got no idea how I feel about Ada."

"I know the one time we had sex you called me her name." Claire says flatly.

Leon drops his fork, pushing away from the table.

"Leon!"

"Go home, Claire." He waves her off, stalking toward his bedroom.

"You need to talk about China!" She calls after him. He slams his bedroom door so hard a picture on the wall rattles.

Claire sighs, sitting back and drinking her coffee. "Maybe you do need an intervention." She mutters.


	2. Torn

**Authors Note:** Don't ask how Redfields become my go-to comic relief guy. I dated a soldier, maybe I remember the gallows humor. Starting to weave together a lot of threads here, Onward!

* * *

 **I hear the sound of a heart**  
 **From the shadow in the dark**  
 **Waiting for the poison to hit its mark**

 **I see the darkness**  
 **Surround the shape on the ground**  
 **The killer straight up and a body face down**

 **I hear the din of the screams**  
 **Sorrow in streams**  
 **The smell of farewell and gasoline**

 **I see a heart set free**  
 **And my legacy**  
 **Hear a voice from a shadow**  
 **That is beckoning me**

 **\- Celldweller**

* * *

Raccoon City had left them reeling. You didn't survive something like that and come out the same person you were when you stepped in to it. It was a physical and chemical impossibility. Surviving death changed you on every level. On a base, feral, every fiber of your being level. Whether it's narrowly being missed by a speeding car, surviving a stabbing or worse – you're done. You're changed. The person you were is six feet under ground and someone new emerges. Someone older, wiser – a little further away. Raccoon City had put Leon and Claire through the ringer and left them wasted on the other side, looking for the pieces that had shattered over the course of events, desperately trying to stick them back together again in to some semblance of normal, functioning human beings.

Sure there had been help. There had been Government types debriefing them, interviewing them, scolding them, comforting them. Holding them in sterile rooms while they were tested for everything from T Virus to the common cold. He'd been told that day he had a surprising natural immunity to the virus, a true rarity, they took a lot of his blood. Whatever helped the country, he supposed.

They'd both been given 'Trauma Counselling' which Leon had quickly discovered was about as useful as handing out condoms in a convent.

Talk about your feelings, Leon. Talk about your problems. How did it make you _feel?_

What the fuck did it matter how he'd felt? It didn't change what had happened. Sitting there telling some stranger in a suit that you stabbed a re-animated corpse through the eye repeatedly while it dribbled decaying plasma and some kind of foul smelling pus on to your chin neither made that memory go away, nor helped dissect it in to better understanding. There was no understanding this, there was no dealing with it. There was just continuing to exist. Going on knowing that this stuff was out there and you better keep moving or else it was going to catch up to you.

Leon swings a fist at the hanging punch bag in front of him in perfect time with a breath, it connects with a satisfying whack.

In Raccoon City he'd murdered a child.

He follows through the jab with another. Three blows, duck, swing. Satisfying.

A little boy, holding a toy train. No more than maybe six years old. It was just muscle memory, he knew that. The boy held on to the train because he'd been clutching it when he died and now the virus re-animating his muscle and tissue was remembering and kept him holding on. Everybody talked about the monsters they saw that day – and subsequent days after. Everybody talked about the undead and the freaks and outright mutants they'd faced down. It was made light of around water coolers – you did it to cope.

Nobody talked about the children. Ever.

Killing a child changed everything and it didn't matter that it was technically no longer a child, it was a beast like the rest of them. An accident. A consequence. A fucking side effect of whatever the latest nonsense was some scientist had dreamed up in a lab. It didn't matter. Somewhere along the line a tiny, terrified infant had faced the real boogeyman and – defenceless – met a demise far earlier than any child or even childs parent should endure. And then along came men like him to kill them a second time.

It did something to you. He took out that child in a mixture of desperation, fear and compassion. It had been trying to bite him, sure. Didn't matter. In the end he was kneeling there holding the body of a six year old and shivering from the shock of the sight in his arms. Sorry was not a big enough word. I'm sorry this happened to you, kid. I'm sorry the adults couldn't chase away the things that go bump in the night.

Leon ducks away from the bag and swings a kick up and behind himself, a reverse hook kick, his heel hitting it with a resounding thump and sending it swinging. He springs from his foot straight in to a tornado kick and catches the bag on its backswing, striking it again. Landing, he throws two punches as it comes back at him, swiftly switching his balance and in to a jumping spinning hook kick.

He lands and catches the bag with his hands, drawing in a breath and leaning his forehead against it.

The only person he'd ever told about that little boy was Claire. They'd been in this together since ground zero it seemed, something like that bonded you together on a level you couldn't describe. Beyond friendship, beyond love, beyond sex or hate. He didn't know what it was he felt for that woman, he just knew he needed her in his life in one form or another because without her it was like his anchor was gone. He'd truly be adrift with no idea how to process the things he'd seen. She challenged him, she made him face up to things. She was an ear and a comfort and she knew – she'd seen the same damn things that he had. And it was different to just having experience in the same field and sharing stories. She knew, for real, the exact same shit he'd seen.

At least on that job. She couldn't help with Spain, or any of the other things he'd been a part of since. Except for Harvardville.

Leon closes his eyes, bare fingertips clutching the slightly rough fabric that covered the bag. His taped hands holding it steady as he took a moment to breathe. As that moment passes his eyes snap open and he moves from resting to a vicious flurry of strikes in less than a heartbeat. Teeth clenched, he moves around that bag like the floor was lava.

Harvardville. And the biggest mistake he'd ever made.

He switches from fists and backsteps four times then runs in to a skipping jumping back kick, sending the punching bag swinging backward. He backflips – showing off – and on the bags backswing a tornado 360 turning kick. He lands and catches the bag with one hand, an open palm, holding it there.

" _When did you two go diving, hm?"_

" _Don't worry about that, more importantly, what are you up to? Need a lift?"_

Yes, Leon, show her your government helicopter. Like some skeezy rich dude trying to impress the girl. She hadn't taken the offer, she was true to herself with everything she was. Unchanged by the illusion of power or grandeur given to you by Government agencies shipping you around the world or being at your beck and call because you're the best of the best of the best.

" _Next time we bump in to each other, lets hope it's someplace a little more normal."_

" _Definitely."_

How did an off duty Leon Kennedy celebrate defeating another big bad and getting another disaster under control? He took a couple of days off in a hotel after debrief and he did a lot of drinking. After Spain, drinking had swiftly become his go-to method of coping. It wasn't the best, or healthiest, but it was legal and it was relatively cheap. He could sweat off hangovers in the gym in the morning, it didn't leave you foggy like other methods of escape. Drink. Cope. Sweat.

He should have that printed on a self help T Shirt.

Leon steps back from the abused punching bag and begins unwinding tape from his fists. Peeling it from his skin and tossing it in the trash, he steps across the ground mat and dips his hands in to chalk powder, dusting them off. He turns to the framework of bars that ran the side of the gym and springs up easily to catch one. Pull ups, lots of them.

In the hotel bar she'd walked back in to his life, nothing more than a coincidence. She was staying a night before flying out to her next destination, having visited her friends. He was there just because it was a convenient place to stop and breathe for five minutes. His life was so fucking complicated that in his down time he always went with the easiest options. His expense account was a laundry list of hotel rooms and bar tabs.

He'd been happy to see her away from the apocalypse. Her trademark red hair had fallen in pretty waves around her face, her simple jeans and tank top had caught his eye. He bought her dinner and they talked. They talked a lot, ever since Raccoon City. Phone calls, text messages, but rarely in person. It had been one of those rare occasions and they'd sat long past dessert and talked until the waiting staff had made it quite obvious they were closing by beginning to stack chairs around them. He'd added dinner to his bill and they'd decided not to end the night, instead they'd gone for a walk. It was all innocent, it was friendship and solidarity. Comfort in its own way. They'd walked down to a lake and sat by it and watched a meteor shower while musing about the possibility of aliens landing and making things even crazier. How would they handle an Alien invasion? Would it be worse than Bio Weapons?

What would happen in a showdown between the Alien Queen and a Tyrant?

They'd laughed. Made fun of the horror on a balmy summers night. Raccoon City had never seemed further away.

And he'd kissed her.

Four sets of 20 and he drops to his feet, standing for a moment and stretching his shoulders, he glowers at some distant point across the gym and then cracks his neck and jumps up again. Grabbing that bar, pulling himself up with a grunt.

He'd kissed her and she'd flinched, putting a hand on his chest. He'd backed off instantly, apologizing. The moment had run away from him, for just a second he'd wanted more than friends. She'd been his anchor in the storm for so long, she was right, anything more than that would hurt things. Would change everything. She didn't want to lose him. He'd reassured her it was fine and he was sorry, and she'd ended up tucked up in the crook of his arm, silence falling over them as they watched the last of the stars streak across the sky.

He'd walked her back to the hotel and to her room. She had an early flight in the morning so they probably wouldn't see each other again for a while. But he promises to call her. By the time he reached his room she'd already sent him a text message telling him he better remember that phone call. He'd promised again, and laid on his bed cradling a glass of whiskey when there'd been a knock at his door. He hadn't ordered room service, so he took his gun to answer it out of pure habit and eternal paranoia slash caution he'd inherited since beginning this battle against the damned. But he'd opened the door to find Claire and her red hair standing there looking equal parts terrified and wanting.

She'd kissed him.

Leon didn't have many regrets in life. Regrets were pointless for the most part, it was just beating yourself up over stuff and adding more problems to an already full plate of them. But he regretted that night.

She'd kissed him and they'd backed up in to his room, his gun put aside, gathering her up in his arms. He remembered everything, every second of it. The way she tasted, the scent of her skin. The softness of her hair between his fingers. Undressing her had been like discovering a beautiful new land, she had almost unholy curves, a figure she hid under layers of denim and modesty.

The sounds she'd made. Every one he could recall with perfect clarity.

A total of 200 pull ups later, he finally drops to the mat below the bars and begins stretches. Dipping right down to stretch out his aching, troublesome hip.

If their phone calls and conversations were comfort, then being inside her had felt like the world had suddenly healed itself. No more horror, no more fighting. His calm in the storm – lighthouse in the night. Always his center the one place he could turn where he didn't have to be 'Leon Kennedy: Superhero' .. but instead just Leon. The dude that struggled with the things he'd seen and done. She took it all away.

And as he came he called her Ada.

His stretches become push ups and with each one he grits his teeth and glares at the stand holding the chalk for the bars. What kind of stupid, brainless, complete and total fuck up does that? She'd shoved him off of her and gathered up her clothes and she'd bolted. He spent the rest of the year apologizing. After a year of making him grovel, she finally forgave him. But whatever hope there might have been that some day they could survive the end of the world together and make something of what they had was gone. Now she was his buddy, and she picked up after him sometimes and she checked in on him to make sure he hadn't drunk himself into a coma or fallen apart after his latest mission.

He and Claire Redfield were never to be. He wasn't angry at her, he was angry at himself. Being reminded of the things you'd fucked up was never easy. Sometimes he felt like maybe Chris should be told what happened, just so he could kick the shit out of him and he'd finally feel a bit like he'd atoned for his ridiculous sin.

Hi Chris, hows your sobriety going? I fucked your sister once and called her Ada. By the way, Ada's still alive.

He was the worst piece of shit friend ever.

Getting to his feet two hours after his workout began, his body glistening a sheen of sweat, he's finally done. Dusting his hands off he pauses by a bench and drains the last of a bottle of water. Gathering up his gloves and tape he pads out of the buildings gym and picks up another water bottle on his way out, heading for the locker rooms and a shower. Another hangover exorcised in sweat, he dresses and heads up to the offices of the DSO headquarters. The building still had a shiny, new paint smell to it and in the main lobby they were beginning to add a memorial tribute to the now deceased President Benford. Guilt gripped him every time he passed the workmen erecting it, that would be a tough one to escape.

It was now the Washington President Benford Memorial building, it was home base to various organizations that protected America, and also played host to a few US offices for outside ventures like the BSAA. High tech, high security, full of people that could rip your skin off and wear it as a coat if the contract called for it. That and some of the brightest brains he'd ever met. It was a bustling hub of people that wanted to save the world and protect the country. He felt a sense of pride walking it's halls, no matter how in ruins his personal life was.

"Leon!"

He stops in his tracks, muttering under his breath. "Fuck my whole life." He turns and offers Helena a smile.

"Hey stranger," he greets her as she pulls up beside him, waiting for the elevator. She looked good in her pant suit and her hair up in a slightly untidy knot. He always did have a thing for brunettes.

"Long time no see," she nudges his arm, "or even call."

He grimaces as the elevator doors slide open in front of them.

"Sorry, had a weird case dumped in my lap. My minds been all over the place." He lies. Well – it wasn't an entire lie. The case was strange.

"The scientist thing?" She asks, stepping inside with him.

"Yeah, the scientist thing." He sighs, thumbing for the 8th floor of the building. It was her stop too.

"Got you playing detective huh?" She smiles.

"Kinda. Think they're just trying to keep me busy after China. But hey, if I get to stay home for a while I'm not complaining."

"Beats some major outbreak and jumping off of skyscrapers I guess." Helena shrugs.

"Definitely."

"So what do you think it is, a suicide?" She asks. News of the untimely death of one of the top scientists in their field of work had spread like wildfire, he wasn't surprised she knew about it.

"Not unless a human figured out a way to run fast enough to break RPG proof glass."

"Wow." Helena's eyebrows jump and the elevator comes to a stop, the two of them stepping out.

"You don't know anything about occult symbols, do you?" He asks suddenly as they walk in to the offices of the DSO.

"Um, a little." She makes a confused face, "I mean I was kinda a goth in high school."

He chuckles, "I can picture that."

"It was a whole phase." She rolls her eyes.

"We all have them. I was in to hair metal in high school." He says thoughtfully.

"Tell me you had long hair and a bandanna?"

"I did." he makes a face, "I think I looked like an entire idiot."

She laughs, "I need to see pictures."

"Lost to time, thank god." He smiles, pausing by a desk. He grabs a piece of paper and a pen and sketches down the symbol that had been on the wall in Jacksons bathroom.

"It was painted in his blood, so the lab results say." He moves the paper over to her and she picks it up, studying it.

"Okay, that's pretty creepy." She frowns.

"Right? What's weirder is how it got there. The dude was dead on the street twelve stories down. So the killer had time to smash him through a window, go down to a flooded street, gather up enough blood to paint this and get out without leaving a single trace they were ever there."

"Unless they did something to him before," she suggests, "any evidence he'd been, I don't know.. tortured?"

Leon considers this, leaning against the desk. "Autopsy says no. But I guess it's possible. Times don't really check out though." He sighs.

"Maybe its just a freak occurrence," Helena shrugs, "I'd look in to his past, see if he had any strange extra curricular activities. You never know what people are doing on their own time."

Leon looks thoughtful, "probably a good idea."

She passes the paper back to him. "so what are you doing later?"

He lifts a hand and scratches the back of his neck, "reading, by the looks of it."

"Well you owe me a drink, so figure out a way to fit that in." She folds her arms and smiles at him.

He looks back at her and his mind swiftly runs through every single excuse he could throw at her, before he gives her the tiniest nod. "Alright."

"Great, I'll come by around about 9?"

He nods again and with that she turns away, heading off to check in with whoever it was she was reporting to now.

Helena had joined with the DSO a month after she was cleared of all charges in the wake of China. She was good at what she did, an asset to the Division and tough as nails, she could handle herself in any situation that presented itself to her. It was a quality he'd found enticing and exciting at first, he always did have a thing for strong women. But somewhere along the line the waters had gotten murky, a few after hours drinks had turned in to sex and despite the fact he'd told her he wasn't looking for anything beyond that companionship, she equated sex to meaning a whole lot more than just some adult fun.

Now she was actively trying to get him to commit to something.

Okay, so maybe he had two life regrets. His dick got him in more trouble than scientists dreaming up horror shows in labs. Groaning to himself he scrunches up the paper with the symbol, makes a fantastic throw and gets it in a trash can across the room.

"Just don't fuck her." He mutters to himself as he heads off to do some research.

* * *

Helena lay naked and face down on his bed, sound asleep. The curve of her ass framed just barely by expensive bed sheets. Leon sat on his couch with his feet up on his coffee table and his laptop balanced on his sweatpant covered thighs, shirtless and smelling like sex. He couldn't sleep for shit and the whiskey wasn't helping tonight. He presses his finger on the laptops touch pad and scrolls down through various occult symbols. He had no idea there were so many, it was a world that was completely alien to him. Witchcraft and demons and angels, who came up with this shit? He sighs, lifting his glass in his other hand and continuing to scroll, looking for anything that even slightly resembled what he'd seen on that wall.

He's about to give up when one catches his eye. He knocks back the last of his glass and sits up, looking closer. It wasn't the whole symbol, but it looked a lot like the central rune. He frowns and clicks on the image, bringing up a badly put together page on demons.

"Oh great," he mutters. It looked like it had been created by some teenage goth that had listened to one too many Cradle of Filth albums. A collection of lyrics and pictures of pentagrams. Some badly written poetry about the horrors of love. He clicks his tongue in his mouth as he scrolls through and eventually saves just the picture of the symbol, taking it to google image search and entering it in.

What springs up makes his heart cold. There it was. The rune sat in the middle of two perfect circles. There were other markings within it, but for the most part it was exactly what he'd seen painted in blood on the wall of Jacksons bathroom.

"Lilith," he murmurs, picking a link and then pouring himself another glass as he reads.

It was the seal of Lilith. A Sumerian or Babylonian demon Goddess. A creature of the night represented in imagery as a beautiful winged woman with the talons of an Eagle in place of her feet. The first wife of the Biblical Adam, but she refused to have sex with him because she didn't want to be beneath him. Lilith represented female sexuality and strength, seduction and power. She was cursed for refusing to bow to man, and her children were killed. In retaliation, she would steal and kill human children.

In Jewish folklore, she was thought of as a succubus. A sexual vampire who came to men at night and preyed upon their dark desires. Leading them toward corruption. A seductive temptress and sorceress, who refused to bow to any man and left paradise willingly to avoid having to do so.

He sits back and drinks, frowning.

What the fuck did any of that have to do with super intelligent scientists meddling in Bio Weaponry and genetics? Maybe it really was a random act, maybe Jackson was the victim of some disgruntled ex wife? It's as he thinks this, his phone rings. Making him jump. He quickly sits forward and drops his laptop onto the coffee table, grabbing his phone and answering it before it can wake the sleeping Helena.

"Agent Kennedy?"

"Yeah." It was work, calling him at 1am. Either there was an outbreak of something terrible somewhere, or..

"There's been another one."

He runs his hand through his hair and over his face.

"Dr Kenneth Miller, a former Head of Genetic Research at Umbrella. Now working directly with the Government in the same area."

"Where?"

"Sending details through now. They need you at the scene immediately."

He nods, hanging up and getting to his feet, at least he wasn't too deep in to the bottle just yet. A moment later the phone beeps with the location as he's splashing water on his face. He freshens up and pulls on jeans, fixing his belt and buttoning down a wine red shirt. It's as he tugs on his jacket that Helena finally stirs.

"What are you doing?"

"I have to go, there's been another Scientist murdered." He says quietly, strapping holsters to his body.

Helena frowns, peering at the clock beside his bed. "Oh, damn, do you need any extra hands?"

"Sherry Birkin's my partner on this one, we got it."

"Alright, See you for breakfast?"

He sighs. "Probably not, I'll see you around okay?" He holsters his magnum and makes sure his ID is in his pocket, then grabs his keys and is out the door. He did not have time for dealing with Helena Harper right now.

He stuffs a stick of gum in his mouth and waits, leaning up against the wall of the bar beneath his apartment and awaiting the arrival of his ride. He wasn't driving that deep in to a bottle of Jack, so he'd sent a message to Sherry. As she pulls up in front of him, he can't help his little smile. Sherry had grown in to a tough, competent young woman and even though he had no right or reason to be, he felt proud of her. She'd emerged from some truly awful circumstances with her head on straight and an unflinching desire to help those that had suffered at the same kinds of hands. When this case came up, their bosses had decided that in the wake of China they both needed to focus on something a little closer to home, and that Sherry getting to work with Leon would be good experience for her. Truth be told, it was a good experience for him too.

"Do you need to sleep it off in the back?" She asks with a cheeky smile as he gets in the passenger seat. He shoots her a look.

"Don't you start with me too."

"Hey! No judgments.." She laughs, holding her hands up for a moment. He rolls his eyes and looks to the street ahead.

"Let me guess, you've been talking to Claire." He huffs.

"A little. She's just worried about you." Sherry shakes her head, getting them on the road.

"Well you don't need to be, none of you. I'm alright." He leans his head back against the headrest and watches the road as she drives.

"You're always alright, that's what I told her. Leon the unflappable." Sherry quips in a song song voice.

"Damn straight," he gives a little nod, idly chewing his gum.

"I think it's just the whole thing with Chris, it's got her on edge." Sherry adds with a shrug.

"Well, I'm not Chris Redfield."

"Well we know that. But cut her some slack, he's her brother and he almost died."

"We all almost die – constantly." He snorts.

"There's a difference between dying in the line of duty and dying at the bottom of a bottle."

Leon grimaces. Chris had been in a bad way, before – during – and after China. For all the macho bravado bullshit Redfield projected, he'd gone through some shit and had the weight of the world on his shoulders. Bouts of amnesia and a battle with the bottle. PTSD felt like a dirty word to men like them, like it was a weakness. Like it made them less effective at what they did. It didn't. If anything it just meant that they were still human beings despite the things they'd seen and done. It was a good thing. But Leon fully understood where Chris was coming from - it felt weak to admit.

So you masked.

After China, Redfield had his memories back, but not his grip on sobriety. He'd gone deep and hard in to the bottle and ended up with Claire staging an intervention. Leon had refused to be a part of it, he wasn't going to be a hypocrite and strongarm his battleground brother in to coping. Leon was a lot of things, but hypocrite was not one of them. Redfield was now three months sober, considered a success story. So all eyes were now on him. The other alcoholic in their midst.

God, he hated that word.

Sherry thankfully changes the subject and they have a brief conversation about where they could pick up breakfast after this was done. Then they're pulling up in a dingy alleyway, lit up by the flashing blue and red lights of police cars and an ambulance. The ambulance quietly waiting for the body to be cleared for removal. Popping in another piece of gum, Leon steps out of the car and is immediately hit by the smell of death, he wrinkles his nose.

"Ew.." Sherry declares, "that can't be from the scientist."

Leon shakes his head, "Abattoir." He gestures a little to a sign on the side of one of the buildings.

"Oh great." Sherry makes a face, "I'm a vegetarian."

"Well we're not here to eat the murder victim." Leon gives her a look and she shoots one right back.

They head toward the waiting police vehicles and are soon greeted by Chief 'Not paid enough for this shit'.

"You again."

"Me again." Leon looks up at the warehouse they're stood outside.

"Another one of your scientists?"

"Yeup." Water from a broken drain trickled down the side of a mold and mildew covered wall, the whole place smelled like damp and rotting meat. He makes a mental note to find out what companies slaughtered their animals here, so he could avoid it in future. It did not seem sanitary.

"Well, this way. I expect you'll wanna see him." The Chief beckons them along. Sherry gives Leon a sideways look and they follow. She was struggling with the smell, he could tell. He offers her a stick of gum.

"It'll help." He tells her quietly. She nods and takes it.

"I warn you, I've been in the Police force thirty years. I ain't ever seen shit like this." The Chief lifts a line of tape and they step in to what was possibly once a holding area for cattle before they were taken in for slaughter.

Leon hesitates, looking at the damp concrete floor.

Upon it, the seal of Lilith painted in blood. Two giant circles, with the rune inside. "Where's the body?" He asks quietly.

The Chief simply points up.

Leon follows the gesture with his eyes and behind him, Sherry lets out a squeak of a noise, then rushes away, retching. Leon meanwhile is transfixed, pulling a torch from his pocket he shines it on one half of the former scientist. He'd been stripped naked and split down the middle, quite literally torn in half, crotch to neck. The two halves hung on meat hooks at either side of the seal painted in blood below. Entrails and bone hung crudely from the corpse, a steady drip of blood to the floor below.

"Well, there's something you don't see every day." Chris Redfield's voice breaks the silence as Leon takes in the scene.

"I'd say not." He murmurs his response.

"So what's the theory?"

"Whatever did this is strong, can fly, and really hates science." Leon gives Chris a thoughtful sideways glance.

"Sounds reasonable." Chris nods, "this is the shit they want me working on while giving me a break from field duty."

"It makes sense." Leon turns, taking a few steps backward to get a look at the body from a different angle.

"How so?"

"They think a Bio Weapon did this." Leon answers him, shining the torch back to Redfields face. "Which means you're up."

"So they're not telling us everything." Chris ponders.

"Someone knows more than they're saying." It was an instinct, a hunch. Leon begins photographing what he was seeing. The forensics teams would likely already have taken pictures, but he wanted some for his own reference.

"Something like the Lickers?" Chris was deep in thought, "someone controlling something big, and nasty. Picking off rival scientists?"

"Maybe." Leon pockets his phone. "Something strong enough to rip a human in half."

"Told you. Witchcraft." Chris smirks. Leon clicks off his torch and chews his gum.

"See if you can find anything. I better go check on Sherry."

Chris gives him an absent nod and Leon makes his way back outside, ducking through the police tape and finding the youngster leaning against the damp wall, bent over with her hands on her knees.

"You okay, kid?" He asks gently, arriving at her side.

She nods, running her hand under her nose. "The smell just..."

"Yeah. Not good." He crouches down at her side, looking up at her and offering her a smile. She smiles weakly back.

"What could do that?" She asks quietly.

"Someone controlling a Bio Weapon. I think we're not being told the whole story here." He theorizes.

"That poor man."

"Well, one was an anomaly. Two is the start of a pattern. We need to start looking in to these guys, finding out what they were working on, why someone would want them taken out."

Sherry nods. "I can do that."

"That's my girl." He smiles softly and rises to his feet.

"Leon?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you really get used to this stuff?" She asks.

He hesitates, "I guess after a while you see enough terrible things that it doesn't punch you in the gut anymore." He answers eventually, "but it still sits there." he taps the side of his head.

Sherry wraps her arms around herself, shuddering a little.

"We catch this guy. We put him away. We win." Leon tells her, "That's our job. To protect the people that can't protect themselves. To get justice for those that can't anymore. To help people."

She nods and he draws her in to a comforting little hug.

"Lets split." Redfield cuts through the moment with a pun so bad it even makes Leon groan. But at least Sherry laughs.

"Coffee and research, my kinda party." Leon sighs.


	3. The Way We Weren't

**Authors Note:** Things are getting messy, bring a bucket. Also warning for sensitive subject matter. Don't read if you're easily upset.

* * *

 **You think you know, but you're horribly blind**  
 **You think you know how this story's defined**  
 **You think you know that your heart has gone cold inside**  
 **Fine**

 **\- Device**

* * *

Clink, clink, clink.

The sound would be unbearable if the promise of life giving caffeine didn't immediately follow. Leon stirs in a small heap of sugar to a large mug of black coffee and lifts it to his lips. It was hot enough to fend off the hangover threatening behind his eyes, but not so hot it burned his mouth. Just the way he liked it.

The three of them sat at the furthest table from the door of a cheap diner not too far from the scene of the torn in half scientist. Sherry was quiet, processing what she'd seen while clutching a mug of herbal tea. For a girl that had been through a few different versions of the apocalypse, she still held on to her humanity. Seeing another human being ripped to pieces like that had obviously shaken her, and Leon was considering telling their superiors that this wasn't the case for her to be on after all. But if he did that, he knew he'd never hear the end of it from her. Another woman barking in his ear wasn't really high up on his list of wants right now. He just hoped she learned to stomach it before the next case rolled in, he had a feeling whatever was doing this it was just getting started and the murders weren't going to get any prettier to look at. These people were being punished, the killer wanted them to suffer – to be scared. While he had no solid facts yet to back that theory up with, it was just a strong feeling in his gut. You didn't paint in someone's blood unless you really wanted people to know you were pissed off.

It sent a pretty strong message.

"Here ya go hun," a blonde waitress snaps her gum and sets down a plate in front of him, he thanks her with a smile. Breakfast, most important meal of the day, especially at 5am after no sleep and half a bottle of whiskey. Rolling in to work later was going to be a riot.

"Coroner says there's no entry wound," Chris speaks up as Leon eats and Sherry cradles her tea, "so the guy was legitimately ripped in half."

The color that had started returning to Sherry's cheeks begins to recede again. Leon flicks his gaze from her to Chris, who was pouring over a report on his tablet sat beside the most ridiculous egg white omelette. Leon was a gym rat, but he refused to eat dull food. Probably why he wasn't the size of a tank unlike his protein loving friend.

"Claw marks then? Teeth? Anything?" He shrugs.

Chris shakes his head, looking back up to him and starting on his food. "Nothing. He wasn't bitten, he wasn't scratched. He was just ripped in two."

Leon narrows his eyes, thinking. "But to exert that kind of force, you'd have to have a grip – somewhere."

"Hm, kinda as impossible as jumping through reinforced glass, huh." Chris says mysteriously.

"Maybe it really is witchcraft.." Sherry says absently, causing both men to look at her. She realizes after a moment of staring in to her tea and shrugs at them. "I mean, stranger things have happened."

Leon studies her. "Sure, but those stranger things were dreamed up in labs by scientists. They look impossible when you're facing them but when you get down to it, science goes 'hey, this is a thing now'.." he chuckles.

Chris sighs, shutting his tablet down and pushing it aside in favor of his food. "Well whatever it is, I want this shit shut down. This is not how I pictured a vacation."

Leon smirks, vacation was a flimsy word in their world. Sure, some of their jobs were downright dull. You couldn't have an end of the world threat on a daily basis, the major incidents were thankfully few and far between. In the middle was the small stuff, the weird stuff, the apprehending people before they got as far as causing the apocalypse.

And from time to time, they got to be detectives. Leon would be lying if he said he didn't find this kind of thing a little fascinating. He enjoyed testing his brain.

"You said the symbol on the floor was for a demon goddess," Sherry continues with a small yawn, "I'm just saying."

Chris gives her a sideways look and shakes his head, "just what we need. The undead, crazy scientists, bio weapons and now demons. Lets just throw in an alien invasion we'll have the full set."

"Don't tempt fate." Leon closes his eyes, offering up a small prayer to whoever was listening that the universe wouldn't take Chris up on his challenge.

They finish up their breakfasts and while Chris had the rest of the day off to research this thing, Leon and Sherry had to get in to the office. She drops him off at his apartment so he can shower and change – he could still smell that abattoir on his clothes. He lived on the third floor of a small apartment block that sat over a bar, this wasn't a coincidence. He had a nice place out in Colorado but it was about as impractical as it got when you worked for the Government. The way he saw it, if he had to be in D.C then all he needed was a roof over his head and a place to drink the memories away, so an apartment above a bar had sealed the deal almost immediately. The only downside to a small building – as nice as it was – it had thin walls. And boy did his neighbor hate him.

He lived next door a younger guy that seemed to be in to Dungeons and Dragons from what Leon could make out. He had to be in his mid 20's and now and again he'd see the guy in a cape or dressed like something out of Lord of the Rings. It was strange, but Leon was very much a 'whatever floats your boat' kind of guy. Unfortunately, his neighbor was not. He'd complained many times about the things that floated Leon's boat, at first he'd been apologetic and he'd really tried to keep the noise down and be a good neighbor. But after a while it had just gotten annoying and sort of sad, the kid needed a life outside of pretending to be someone else. A small, vindictive part of Leon Kennedy enjoyed it when women were extra loud, just because it would piss him off.

He arrives on his floor and heads to his door, sliding his key in to the lock only for the handle to turn and it to swing open for him. He frowns as Helena stands before him wearing only one of his shirts and a smile on her face.

"You're still here?" He asks as though it's not obvious.

She laughs, "well it's not even 6am yet, I was getting ready to go."

"Oh, right." He nods, brushing past her and hearing her shut the door behind him. He shrugs off his jacket and chucks it over the back of a chair, getting rid of the holsters and his boots.

"How did it go?" She asks, making him frown.

"How did what go?"

"The case."

"Dead dude..." Leon gestures, "someone strung him up on meat hooks in two halves."

"Wow."

"Yeah."

"Any theories?"

Leon pinches the bridge of his nose and then turns to face her, "can we.. not."

Her turn to frown, stepping toward him, "are you okay?"

"I'm fine!" he stops her in her tracks, holding his hands up. "I just gotta get ready for work, so.."

"Well I'll start you a shower." She smiles at him and turns for his bathroom. His hands curl in to claws and he makes a face behind her back. What was wrong with him? Why did he have to make every situation with women a thousand times worse by sleeping with them?

"Helena, you don't have to.."

"Its fine, might as well make myself useful." She breezes.

He glances around himself and then heads in to his kitchen, grabbing a glass from the sink and unscrewing the cap of the half empty whiskey bottle. He pours a good size shot and brings it to his mouth, then hesitates.

Stop it.

He closes his eyes and places the glass down, bracing his hands on the counter and taking a few deep, cleansing breaths.

"You can do this.." He tells himself. He didn't need alcohol, he had to go to work. Maybe Claire was right.

No, she was not right.

With new resolve he tips the whiskey back in to the bottle and screws the cap on tightly, dropping the glass into the sink and heading for the bathroom. She had the shower going as promised. How did all these women know where his towels were? She'd set them out for him next to the sink. "Thanks," he gives her a little smile and holds the door open for her to leave. Only she doesn't leave. She begins unbuttoning his shirt.

"I can unbutton my own shirt." He tells her.

"I know," she says with a cheeky little gleam in her eye.

His jaw tenses and he takes hold of her wrist. "Helena."

"You just seem a little tense." She purrs.

He tilts his head, narrowing his eyes at her. Then she brushes her hand over the crotch of his jeans.

"I'm tense, cause I just pulled an all nighter with some ripped in half guy and I have to go.. to.. work.." A woman with her hand around his dick won every time, he was a hopeless mess. A little rumble escapes the back of his throat as she sinks down to her knees in front of him, her hands running over the front of his jeans and then unfastening them completely. He wants to protest, the logic part of his brain tells him to. That he wasn't interested in her like that, that this was getting complicated, that she was going to end up hurt, that none of this was cool. But she has him rock hard and in her mouth and he had no willpower at all.

None.

For the first time, they show up to work together. It has the women of the office talking and it has Leon keeping his head down for the entire day. Escaping to the gym to work off the guilt and alcohol, then in to his office to pour over the facts so far in this Lilith case. So far there were little to no connections between the two scientists, they'd worked in different places on different projects. It was only now that they shared a connection, working with the government. Everything there was above board. As much as Leon didn't like to think it, they really needed more to go on. But if this was indeed the work of a good old fashioned serial killer then they likely wouldn't have to wait long for the third and more to go on. It was frustrating.

The crime scenes showed nothing. No prints, no hairs or fibers that didn't belong to the victim. No blood that wasn't theirs. It was like they'd done it to themselves. You could throw yourself out of a window but Leon was pretty sure you couldn't rip yourself in half and hang yourself on meat hooks. What was even stranger was the security camera footage in both cases showed nothing but dead air. The first ones apartment – all four cameras failed at the same time and recorded darkness. At the abattoir, there was only one camera on the alleyway outside the building and surprise surprise, it went black a handful of hours before the body was reported.

An anonymous, untraceable tip.

Someone wanted to be seen and heard. But what was the message? Fuck science?

Leon sits back in his chair and rocks it slowly side to side, lost in thought. He was putting mental pictures together, trying to build a profile in his head of someone that would want scientists bumped off in a big bad way. But nothing linked. Nothing fit. He needed some sleep. With that thought in mind he gets up and grabs his jacket, pulling it on he switches off his computer and heads out.

"Leon!"

"What?!" he snaps, turning to face the female voice calling his name.

Sherry looks at him wide eyed. "Whoa."

His heart sinks, his physical stance relaxing. "I'm sorry, I thought you were.. someone else."

Sherry blinks, moving a little closer to him. "Are you okay?"

"I wish people would stop asking me that." He sighs.

"Done and done.." she holds up her hands and he gives her a gentler smile. "I just wanted to say sorry about this morning."

His eyebrow quirks, a little confused. "What for?"

"For freaking out at the crime scene, it was really unprofessional."

His expression softens, "not unprofessional to find this shit disturbing."

"Well I should be used to disturbing things by now. Its not like Jake and I didn't see enough of it." She shrugs.

Leon looks thoughtful for a moment, then gently takes the top of her arm. "Y'know what. Don't let this job make you numb, kid. You got one of the best hearts I know. I'd hate to see it turn cold."

She gazes at him like he'd just given her the answer to life, the universe and everything. A smile spreading across her face. "Aw, Leon."

"I'm serious. You don't wanna end up like me."

"I think most people aspire to be like you." She laughs.

He closes his eyes and shakes his head. "Well they need a new role model."

"Why? You saved the world.. more than once. You're like a God around here."

He cringes. "And I'm telling you, don't let it make you immune. Save the world, do it with your heart in tact."

Sherry's face falls. "Yours isn't?"

Leon smiles wistfully, "just trust me, okay kiddo? There's nothing wrong with how you handled that today. Deep breaths. You'll be fine."

"Leon.." she says sadly.

"Don't ask me if I'm alright. Just listen." He nods, lifting his hand from her shoulder and giving her hair a ruffle. "Go home, get some sleep. What I'm doing."

"Yes, Boss." She smiles.

He turns away from her, heading to the elevator. "I'm not your boss."

* * *

Leon's sleep is short lived. He wakes from being torn to shreds by Simmons with a jump, his eyes flying open and his heart thudding in his chest. He blinks a few times, forcing the nightmare away, then he tilts his head, looking at the clock. He'd had about three hours since getting home from work, and it was almost 9pm.

He pushes himself up with a groan and rubs his hands over his face and through his hair, his stomach growling. With the claws of the nightmare still grabbing at him he gets up and tugs on jeans and a t shirt, briefly fixing his hair and freshening up a bit before heading out with nothing but his wallet and keys. He doesn't go far, just the bar beneath his apartment. They did good burgers and he needed a beer or five. No whiskey today, maybe he'd give the stuff a break for a week. See how it felt.

"Hey Leon," the bar tender greets him. He was a regular, unsurprisingly.

"Hey Mike," Leon smiles, taking a seat at the bar.

"Usual?"

"Oh yeah, minus the Jack shot." He nods.

"Giving the liver a break?" The barman laughs, getting his beer.

"Something like that." He nods, glancing at the TV and the sports playing. Mike sets a pint glass down in front of him and starts him a tab, Leon had a tendency to settle in for a good few hours. It usually ended when a woman parked herself in his lap.

"Hows work?" Mike asks, he knew Leon's job, drunk people told their bar tenders everything. Bar tenders kept their patrons secrets. It was just the deal. "Do I need to be moving things along with my fallout shelter?"

Leon chuckles, taking a sip of his beer. "Not yet, no apocalypse scheduled that I know of."

"I don't get it, why are people always trying to end the world?"

"Beats me." He shakes his head, "it's not like there's anything to do after its over."

"Crazy is as crazy does I guess."

"I guess so."

"Couldn't do what you do, man. It's bad enough knowing that shits out there."

Leon nods slowly, nursing his beer.

"Foods on the house." Mike adds, putting the order through. Least you could do is feed the man that saved the world for a living for free.

He thanks the barman quietly and he's left alone with his thoughts for a while. He spends it gazing at the TV and working his way through his beer. The burger and fries arrive and he makes short work of that. By the time he's on his third beer, there's a girl with jet black hair sitting beside him making conversation. She was gorgeous, she looked a tiny bit like Ada if he was honest, only her hair reached her waist and she wore a leather jacket, tight fitting black jeans and a navy blue top with the best tit job he'd ever seen sat underneath. No way they were real, they were way too perfect.

He bought her a drink and they talked. Mike the bartender kept that knowing, slightly amused look on his face. Leon was known for more than just being a regular customer.

She was a model and aspiring actress named Jasmina, a beautiful name for a beautiful girl. Though he joked that she was in the wrong city for all of that, she needed to be in LA. She tells him that that's the plan, she was working toward moving there and saving like crazy. He asks her what she's doing alone in the bar, and she says she's waiting for some girlfriends. He promises to buy them all a round when they got there.

The flirting between them is obvious to anyone with eyes, and honestly, he was kinda hoping her friends didn't show. The subject of what he did for a living comes up and he gives her a string of mysterious answers, before leaning in and tucking her hair back, whispering near to her ear that he could tell her, but it was top secret. As she giggles in a coy, flirtatious way, he feels a tap on his shoulder.

He turns.

"PIG!" Helena snaps at him, then throws his beer in his face.

It was a record scratch moment.

His jaw drops, the glass had been just about full and he was drenched, his hair plastered to his face, his t shirt soaked and the pitter patter of liquid hitting the wood floor below seems to fill the room louder than the noise of the TV. Helena glares at him, still clutching the glass. Their eyes meet and for a moment he's frozen, sitting there completely stunned by what she'd done. Then she slams down the glass on the counter and bolts.

He's after her in a heartbeat. Potential conquest and bar tab forgotten, he chases her out of the door and into the street where he catches her arm and pulls her around to face him.

"What the fuck was that?!" He yells at her in the middle of the pavement.

"You asshole!" she yells right back at him. "I turn my back for five seconds and you're hitting on some sleazy skank."

He blinks. "Turn your back? Hold on a second, just what the fuck do you think we are to each other?"

"You're USING me!" She shouts at him.

He laughs. "I've been pretty goddamn clear what we are since we got back from China, Helena. You wanted this." He points at himself. "I TOLD you!"

"You didn't tell me you were a lying, cheating piece of shit." She shoves him and he takes a step back, gritting his teeth. The glare he returns to her would stop most people in their tracks.

"How can I be cheating on you if we're not even dating?!" He hisses, trying to keep his voice down as passers by stare at them.

"Oh we're not?" She folds her arms.

"NO!" he snaps.

"Then why do I keep waking up in your bed?"

He laughs, "cause you keep putting yourself there."

"You're disgusting."

"I'm honest." He growls. "I was honest with you, I said I wasn't looking for anything else."

She shoves him again, knocking him another step back.

"Helena I swear to god.." He warns.

"Fuck you! Go back to your slut.. I'm sorry I'm not Ada or an Ada lookalike." She was crying.

"Woman, you need to get a grip."

She slaps him. It barely registers on his face, his eyes narrow and fix on her.

"Are you serious?" He asks in a quiet, calm tone. So she swings again and he catches her wrist, stopping her from making contact and seething. "You don't want to do that."

"Or what? Big hero! What are you gonna do, huh?" She challenges.

He releases her wrist, turning away from her and stalking back in to the bar.

"You dickless, alcoholic sack of shit!" Helena yells after him.

He lets the bar door swing shut behind him. Apologizing to Mike, Jasmina was long gone. He pays his tab and returns to his apartment, a quietly seething wrath under a cool exterior.

* * *

Leon's woken at 5am by a bleeping on his phone. He reaches out and blearily grabs it, bringing it to his ear. He'd taken a shower before he went to bed but he could still smell the beer and it already put him in a mood.

"Kennedy.." he mumbles.

"There's been a report of a disturbance at the house of a Dr Marcus White. A former Umbrella Biologist that now works with Rebecca Chambers at the University..."  
Details are reeled off and Leon's already on his feet and getting dressed. It was reported as a disturbance, not a murder. Something was happening as they spoke and that left no time. He straps his magnum and pulls on his jacket, out of the door in under five minutes. The pattern was forming, now two of the scientists possibly involved in this had worked for Umbrella in the past.

There's flashing blue lights in the drive when he arrives, and Redfield is a heartbeat behind him. The Chief giving them a brief on what they knew so far. Anonymous tip about a loud disturbance. Officers were speaking with neighbors, but nobody had gone in the house yet. With a Bio Weapon as a suspect, it was the wisest move.

Leon and Chris approach the large, mansion of a house with their weapons drawn. Science sure paid well by the looks of things. They pause by the ornate front door and listen for a second, then gesture to one another. With a nod, they step back and kick that door in in a practiced, precise dual blow. Together they head through and instantly split, taking a side each and sweeping through the lower floor on whisper quiet feet. Finding nothing, they converge at the foot of the grand stairs. Chris grumbles a little.

"Why is it always dark fucking mansions?" He asks.

"Powers out." Leon shrugs.

"Yeah, isn't it always?" Chris sighs.

"Mansions are your area, not mine."

Side by side they make their way up the stairs, using the same method when they reach the top. Chris breaks right, Leon breaks left. The house was quiet, eerily so. But there was a strange smell in the air. Something he couldn't quite make out, it wasn't death. But it had the same sourness to it. He checks what appears to be a child's bedroom and finds nothing. So many rooms, such a big place, for a single man? If you were a single man why did you need children's bedrooms?

Leon shivers a little, pulling the door closed behind him.

"KENNEDY!"

Chris' call has him moving swiftly down the hall in the direction of the master bedroom. Finding Chris standing in the doorway, Leon draws to a halt and as he takes in the sight in front of him, he lowers his gun. "Holy fucking shit.." he breathes.

"Y'think?" Chris rubs his hand over his mouth.

Inside the master bedroom a four poster bed sat in the middle of the room. On the ceiling above it, painted in blood, the seal of Lilith. On the bed, the flayed body of what they assumed to be Dr Marcus White. As if skinning a man alive wasn't creepy enough, his skin lay beside him on the bed in perfect form. It was like he'd crawled out if it in the same way a moth would break free from a chrysalis or a snake would shed its scales.

The two men had seen a lot in their lifetimes, but this left both of them without a pun between them. They simply stare.

"What's doing this?" Chris asks.

"I have no fucking idea.." Leon shakes his head slowly.

The slightest noise elsewhere in the house has both men drawing their weapons again, turning and moving in its direction. The deeper in to the house they get, the more familiar the noise becomes. The tighter their grips get on their weapons.

Sobbing.

Nearing the source of the sound, they flank the door it was coming from behind and glance at one another. Then on three, both turn and kick it in. Ready to shoot the shit out of anything that moved. But nothing does. Instead the figure of a young girl dressed in white lies on her side on a bed, crying. She couldn't be any more than a teenager, with long blonde hair that seemed like it hadn't seen a brush in days. There was blood on her white dress, and on the bed. Leon slowly lowers his gun, taking in the scene, he reaches out and gently touches the heavy handed soldiers wrist.

"She was locked in, we just busted the door." He says quietly, gesturing a little to the door behind them, the key sat in the lock on the outside. Chris turns a look to him, then back to her.

"Miss, are you okay?" Chris speaks up. She flinches, like they'd burned her with words.

"Please.. don't.." she sobs.

Leon holsters his gun and takes a few cautious steps forward.

"We're not going to hurt you, we're here to help."

She lifts her face and fixes him with a pair of ocean green eyes filled with tears. Her lip was split, her eye bruised and the front of her dress torn. She clutches the ripped fabric to herself and Leon swallows, looking around the room. "Chris.." he points to a blanket over a chair and Redfield holsters his weapon, bringing it over cautiously.

"What happened here?" Leon asks, carefully handing her the blanket.

She closes her eyes, taking it and holding it to herself.

"I don't know.." she whispers.

Leon had been taking in every inch of the situation since he entered the room. The pattern of the blood on the bed and on her dress told a story that made his stomach tie in to knots and an anger raise somewhere in his soul. Men were scum.

"You don't live here?" Chris asks.

She shakes her head.

"Were you abducted?"

Leon catches Chris' eye and gives a small nod. "Lets call the medics up here, and Sherry. She's terrified."

He beckons Chris over to the door and the pair of them go, stepping just outside of the room. "I think she was raped, she was locked in. Whatever's going on with the Scientist in the other room, this just got a whole lot murkier."

"Christ," the other man sighs, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Go, get the paramedics up here. I'll stay," Leon says quietly. Chris nods and turns away, heading out to explain the situation. Leon moves back in to the room, speaking in his most soothing, gentle tone.

"Helps on the way, okay?" he murmurs, crouching down beside the bed where the girl had pulled herself in to a fetal position and was trembling. Those green eyes were haunting. "What's your name, can you tell me that?"

She whimpers.

"I'm not gonna let anything else hurt you, I promise. I'm Leon." He offers her a smile. "The big brute was Chris. He's a teddy bear really. The police are outside, medics on their way. You're safe now."

She gives him the tiniest nod.

"Lizzie.." she whispers.

* * *

It's a long, long day.

After spending much of it at a secure hospital trying to make sense of what they'd found in that mansion, Leon had hit the gym and filled in a bunch of office paperwork. Now he was ready for a shower, his couch, and a strong drink. He needed to burn the image of finding that girl in such a sorry state out of his mind, not to mention the memory of the skinned scientist. This case was beginning to unravel.

Walking down the hall he pulls his keys from his jacket pocket and slides his apartment key in to the lock. Opening the door.

He steps inside and the door is closed behind him.

"Claire..." he hesitates, finding the redhead sitting at his couch. But she wasn't the only one. His eyes flick around the room at the other, familiar faces all gazing at him with overly concerned expressions.

He laughs at them.

"You have got to be fucking kidding me.."


	4. Intervention

**Authors Note:** For those not familiar with my writing, I tend to leave breadcrumb trails. Hints at things. And come back to them later. So if you see something happen and it doesn't get properly addressed, don't worry. I always come back to stuff. I like to throw out a ton of threads, weave them together and tie them in to a neat bow.

Also, this chapters rough. Nasty subject matter, some tension. It all has a purpose, don't be too sad. Onward!

P.S. If you like a visual, young Amanda Seyfried would be our Lizzie lookalike.

* * *

 **Where do I take this pain of mine**  
 **I run, but it stays right my side**

 **So tear me open, pour me out**  
 **There's things inside that scream and shout**  
 **And the pain still hates me**  
 **So hold me, until it sleeps**

 **Just like the curse, just like the stray**  
 **You feed it once, and now it stays**

 **So tear me open, but beware**  
 **There's things inside without a care**  
 **And the dirt still stains me**

 **\- Metallica**

* * *

 _"Helps on the way, okay?" he murmurs, crouching down beside the bed where the girl had pulled herself in to a fetal position and was trembling. Those green eyes were haunting. "What's your name, can you tell me that?"_

 _She whimpers._

 _"I'm not gonna let anything else hurt you, I promise. I'm Leon." He offers her a smile. "The big brute was Chris. He's a teddy bear really. The police are outside, medics on their way. You're safe now."_

 _She gives him the tiniest nod._

 _"Lizzie.." she whispers._

The first time Leon Scott Kennedy ever 'saved the girl' was in High School. As a teenager you might have expected him to be the jock of his class, maybe on the football team or part of something athletic. But that couldn't have been further from the truth. Through his early years he'd been extremely academic, the highest grades in his year, he was even moved up in some classes because he was outrunning the curriculum. He was a smart kid – really smart – and that never went over well with your peers. He'd been the outcast. As athletic as he was now, back then the most he did was run to class, although he was almost never late. He wasn't so much nerdy as quiet, reserved and in to his learning. He liked to know things, it was a natural inquisitive nature. Books were like a whole world spread before you and he didn't understand why people wouldn't want to know as much as they could. So while others attended dances and worried about dating and fashion and all the usual stuff – You'd find Leon studying. He was a bit of a teachers pet. But he also carried himself in such a way that the other kids left him alone, usually the bookworms were mercilessly picked on. But not him. He kept to himself and in return he was allowed to exist. Then again, he had been pretty tall and even back then, well built.

When he was fifteen, his older brother Michael was killed in a car accident. A drunk driver without a licence caused it, and was never really brought to any real justice. Michael held on in an ICU for a week, before succumbing to head injuries and passing away. It had snapped something inside Leon, his older brother – who used to tease him about being a geek – had also been his idol. Michael was the cool, popular guy who drove his friends around wearing a leather jacket and long hair. He had girls that would flock to him, always someone new hanging around the house. An effortless cool that Leon had wished he possessed himself. Michael, at just 18, was a shining star in their Colorado town – and some drunk asshole without the right to even be on the road snuffed that light out.

It changed Leon almost overnight. He still enjoyed knowledge, but it was a bit like it opened his eyes to the bullshit that existed in the world. It jaded him, made him a little more cynical. But it also made him determined that nobody should have to suffer that kind of loss, that criminals had to be brought to justice. Of course, he had to finish high school before he could train to become a police officer, but he had his life goal suddenly in sight. He grew out his hair like his brother, he took up wearing a leather jacket almost everywhere. Listened to metal, discovered a new world where drinking on a friday night took some of the hurt away, made you numb to the loss.

There was a spot the kids hung out on weekends, not legally old enough to drink, but an older group would bring them alcohol and they'd hang out, talk shit, generally goof off and have a good time. Leon attracted a small group of friends, three other guys that shared the same taste in music and two girls. Maria was beautiful, the first crush of Leon Kennedy. She had dark dyed black hair and it came to her waist. She'd wear it clipped up or in a messy braid with wispy strands framing her face almost all of the time. She dressed in black leather and short skirts always accented with red lips and red accessories, and she had azure blue eyes that made his breath catch in his throat every time she fixed them on him. She'd seemed unattainable. An unreachable beauty he wasn't fit to even stand next to.

One night, as they drank and misbehaved, Leon watched as some older guy hit on her. Plying her with alcohol and the promise of some not so legal substances. Something about the dude made Leon's skin crawl, and it wasn't just that he was hitting on the girl he liked, there was just something sleazy and predatory about him. Eventually, Maria was led away and Leon had watched them go, staying where he was and continuing to drink with his friends until this overwhelming feeling had gripped hold of him. To this day he couldn't tell you where it came from, but it was a gut instinct he'd come to trust over the years afterward. He'd just felt it in his bones – Maria needed help.

He'd left the derelict house they were hanging out in and gone in to the street, following nothing but a feeling a little down the road, until he found a car in an alleyway and the sound of a girl calling for help. He hadn't even thought about it, he'd just raced over there and yanked open the car door. Grabbing the older guy by the back of his jacket and wrenching him off of Maria, knocking him onto the damp gravel. Leon had never been in a fight, not once, but something took over and as the guy got up and told him he was making a mistake, he swung his first punch and followed it immediately with a knee to the guys gut. Then he grabbed a plank of wood leaning against a garage door and smashed it over the dude's back. One final kick to the chest had his opponent surrendering without even getting a hit in. Leon had stood over him brandishing that makeshift weapon while beside him, in the car, a tear streaked and shell shocked Maria picked herself up.

He'd looked from his downed adversary and over to her, and offered her his hand. Asking if she was okay, she'd burst in to renewed tears and Leon had dropped the bat and helped her out of the car. She didn't want to report it or tell anybody, she just wanted to go home. So he walked her home. She'd kissed his cheek and thanked him with a hug, though he hadn't expected one.

They ended up dating right up until Leon started training in the Police force. He still thought about Maria from time to time. You never forget your first, and they had been each others. He often wondered how she was doing.

His instincts rarely failed him, and his want to help and protect people that couldn't do it for themselves had become a driving force in his life. Sometimes it was overwhelming.

"Hey, Lizzie.." he smiles gently at the clearly traumatized girl in front of him, "you don't remember anything?"

She swipes tears from her cheeks and shakes her head a little.

"What's the last thing you do remember?"

"I was with my friends.." she whispers, her voice sounded raspy, like maybe she'd been choked. Leon winces on her behalf. "And then.."

More tears. She moves a little and Leon notices on the inside of her arm what looked like needle marks.

"How old are you, sweetheart?" He asks quietly.

"Eighteen."

He nods, "anyone you want us to call? Your Mom? Dad?"

The next shake of her head makes his heart sink, he finds himself leaning against the bed a little, resting his chin on his forearm to talk with her as he crouched there.

"Where are they?"

"Dead."

"I'm sorry. What about a friend, anyone?"

She closes her eyes and quiets. The picture was already forming in Leon's brain, she was a street kid. Some asshole had picked her up and plied her with drugs and here she was. That gut instinct of his working away again. Homeless children were the most vulnerable people on the planet and there were a lot of willing predators out there just itching to make them their victim. A lot of them rich pricks like the owner of this house, though Leon didn't want to jump to immediate conclusions, an image was certainly being painted.

He doesn't get any further with his questions as the paramedics arrive closely followed by Sherry. Leon steps back and lets the three women tend to the troubled girl. But as they help her up and cover her in blankets, she looks back and reaches to him.

"Don't leave me." She sobs.

Leon frowns, pushing away from the wall and moving toward her. "They're gonna take good care of you, I'll be along later, okay?"

"Please!" She sounded on the verge of a panic attack, a desperation in her voice.

"Leon.." Sherry nudges him, "I think she needs her hero right now."

It wasn't unusual, sometimes people clung to the person that saved them from a bad situation. "Alright, tell Chris?"

"I will, they're going to take her to the hospital near by so we'll come along once she's ready to talk?"

He nods, "sweep this house top to bottom, tear it apart if you have to. Something's been happening here." He tells her in a quiet tone, "I want everything on this guy, right down to his fucking bank statements."

"On it." She agrees. With that, Leon joins the paramedics as they escort Lizzie out of the house. Mid way down the long flight of ornate stairs, she feels faint, so like a true hero Leon scoops her up in his arms and carries her the rest of the way.

He gets her settled in the back of the ambulance and then sits at her side, letting her cling to his hand for the duration of the ride. He didn't mind being someone's anchor, in fact it made his job feel worthwhile. If you could save just one person..

But none of this told them who had skinned the scientist, it just made the entire picture murkier. Were these guys in to something nobody knew about? Were they being picked off because of some personal deviances? Was this revenge? If you had a skinned rapist in one room and an innocent survivor in another then there was a strong motive but why wouldn't the revenge seeker then help the girl? There were more questions than Leon knew what to do with, and he rubs his temple with his free hand as the ambulance pulls up outside the hospital.

He stays by her as they take her in, then waits outside a closed exam room as they check her over. Again she hadn't wanted him to leave, but he reassured her he'd be right outside the door and she'd be well taken care of. He sits there for a good hour, leaned forward with his hands clasped together, lost in thought.

"Agent Kennedy?"

He jerks his head up, fixing on a female doctor with a kind smile in front of him.

"Yeah, that's me."

"I'm told you're acting as Lizzie's guardian while she's here.."

He hesitates, did an eighteen year old even need a guardian? Technically she was an adult. He gets to his feet and sticks his hands in the back pockets of his jeans. "Uh, I guess. I found her, she didn't want me to leave."

"Well, we've completed her exam."

Leon looks her in the eye.

"Her injuries are pretty consistent with rape," the woman sighs, "we think she was drugged, there's track marks on her arms. She also has a lot of rather strange scars."

He frowns. "How do you mean?"

"They look surgical in nature but aren't indicative of any known procedures. It's a little like.." The doctor trails off, studying his face as though trying to gage what he could take hearing, "like someone's been using her for practice."

Leon's eyebrow arches. "Did she say anything about them?"

"She says she can't remember. Any of it. Not even that she was raped."

"She said she'd been with friends and the next thing she knew she was there. I think she's on the streets."

"I got that too. No parents, no address." The doctor sighs, "but.. if that's the case then whoever had her has had her for over a year."

Leon blinks.

"Some of the scars are very old. Childhood even. But some of them are a lot more recent."

He looks toward the door that Lizzie rested behind, then back to the doctor. "Any way we can find what was done? They might not be indicative of any typical surgery but could there be something.. else?"

"We can certainly do X Rays and Scans," she nods.

"Do it. Once she's well enough. Everything."

"We're already waiting on a few test results, but it will be a few hours. She's resting, Agent Kennedy, we can contact you when we know more."

He agrees, pulling his wallet out of his inside pocket and getting her a card with his number and details on. "If she.. I dunno.. freaks out that I'm not here when she wakes up, just call me." He tells her as he hands it over.

"We will."

"There'll be a couple of police officers around too, she's a witness so.." He gives her a small smile and she nods, she likely knew the drill. Police worked with the hospitals regularly.

He takes one last look at that door and in his mind, wishes the girl well. It sounded like whatever had happened, she'd been through a lot and the recovery process would be rough. He'd do what he could to help.

Leaving the hospital, he heads straight for the DSO offices, arriving to find a bustle of activity surrounding the case. This third victim was throwing up red flags everywhere, even a small look in to his history was ringing alarm bells. Leon scowls as he reads through the list of disgusting pornographic shit found on the mans computer – for the first time in his life he's glad a human being got skinned. "I hope it was agony. Prick." He mutters, leafing through the papers and then sighing to himself, he drops it down and sits back in his chair.

But what did a guy in to literal torture porn have to do with the other two scientists? And HOW were these murders being committed? The impossible was still being done.

After filling out a report he decides he can't handle fitting any more of it in to his brain today and he heads for the gym. It was the one place he found he could center himself in any storm, without the need for alcohol. Usually he used it to sweat out the alcohol, but today it's a release. He batters the punch bag with fists and kicks, almost breaking it from it's metal fixings. Imagining each blow was the person responsible for touching her.

He throws one last roundhouse kick at the bag and stops for a breath, catching it and holding it steady. He was exhausted. The last few days had been draining – with the murders, with Helena's bullshit, with hardly getting any sleep in the middle of it all. So much for down time in the wake of China, he felt like he hadn't stopped since he got back.

Giving up on his workout, he sits on the bench with a towel slung around his neck and gets his phone from his gym bag. His thumb hangs over a message, then presses down on the on screen button. Bringing it up.

" _Wish I could stay longer, but I've gotta run. I've left you a little parting gift on the roof. See you down the road, Leon."_

He sighs, bringing up the reply window and hovering his thumbs over the keys. He wanted to see her, he wanted to talk to her. He wanted to know what had happened and what he'd seen on that tape in those underground labs. He had so many questions and he didn't know how to ask any of them. Maybe some part of him was scared to find out she wasn't even human – I mean what had he seen coming out of that pod? That was her. It wasn't a trick of the light.

"Type something.." he tells himself, thumbs still lingering over the keys, "anything. Just say Hi."

He grits his teeth and begins his message.

" _Ada, we need to talk..."_

"No." He grimaces. Deleting.

" _So do I ever get an explanation for China?"_

"I sound like a dick." He stares at the screen as he deletes again. Leon Kennedy, the smoothest man in the world when it came to the ladies. Yet with Ada he was always at a loss for words. Even in the time they had spent together, they hadn't done a whole lot of talking. If he closed his eyes he could remember everything, the way she tasted, the softness of her skin. How it felt to be inside her. He should have taken Helena's advice on that rooftop, gone after her, to hell with Simmons.

But his life had never been more important than missions. He'd never put himself first. And he supposed that meant Helena thought he'd chosen her over Ada. What a fucking mess.

" _I miss you.."_

"You soppy sack of shit." he chuckles to himself, then rolls his eyes and growls as he backspaces the words away.

" _I need to see you._

 _Leon."_

He stares at it. It sounded like it could be official, like it could be something about work or a case. Or it could be personal. It gave very little away. It could even sound like a booty call. However she took it, he could say it meant something else. Because that was how they were, they played an endless game for who knows what reason. Taking a deep breath, he presses 'Send'.

As the message vanishes from his screen and jumps in to the 'SENT' archive, he runs his thumb over the screen, looking back over past messages. It didn't really read like a romance novel between them. A lot of short, non committal, give nothing away exchanges. A few room number trades. A few excuses. A lot of really X rated text sex – oh yeah, some assignments were long, dull, and lonely when you had to keep a low profile. Ada was always good at making him crazy.

He rubs his chin as he reaches the first of their messages. Somehow, she'd gotten his number in the weeks after Spain, refusing to explain what had happened there, she simply said she felt like they needed to 'get this out of their systems'.

" _Its going to eat us alive if we don't do something about it."_

" _ **So you wanna hook up to get me outta your system?"**_

 _"That's the idea."_

" _ **What makes you think it'll work?"**_

" _Most men are disappointing, I'm counting on you not to let me down."_

 _"Y **ou WANT to be disappointed so you can get over me?"**_

 _"I want to be on you so you can disappoint me."_

" _ **What if I don't disappoint you?"**_

 _"I'm very hard to please."_

 _ **"I'm always up to a challenge."**_

The Savoy Hotel in London would forever hold a special place in his heart. What there was left of it.

He smiles a little at the memory and shuts down the messages window, tucking his phone back in to his gym bag and getting back to his feet. He finishes up his workout with an obscene amount of sit ups, pull ups and one handed push ups. Still no reply from Ada by the time he'd finished. He takes himself to the showers and washes off the sheen of sweat, then gathers up his things and heads out. He wanted home, his couch, and a strong drink to wash away the memories of the day. Lizzie's eyes still haunted him, and as he slides his key in to the lock of his apartment he wonders how she's doing. He should call the hospital and check in, though hopefully she was resting.

Opening the door and stepping inside, he discovers a room full of people. Behind him, Chris Redfield takes the door and closes it, leaning against it like a newly placed wall.

It's enough to throw anybody off balance. Just once, it would be nice to come back to his own home and find nobody else in it. He was single for a reason, he liked the quiet. His eyes flick from one person to the next, his jaw tensing.

Claire sat in the middle of them. Sherry, Rebecca, Ingrid, some guy Leon had never seen before in his life and finally, the cherry on top. Helena.

"You have got to be fucking kidding me.." he laughs, fixing his eyes on Claire and moving over to his kitchen table where he drops his gym bag down. He grits his teeth as Claire gets to her feet and moves toward him. "It's not my birthday," he glowers at her.

"And this isn't a surprise party."

"Well its a pretty big fuckin' surprise to me." He arches an eyebrow at her.

"Okay, so its sort of a surprise party. Without cake." Claire nods, folding her arms.

"Yeah well, without cake its wasting my time so..." he gestures to the door, "you can all leave."

"Leon, man, just hear her out." Chris speaks up from by the door and Leon shoots him a glare.

"You're really gonna be a part of this, huh?" He motions toward his supposed 'brother in arms'. "Did you see me trying to force you in to a corner?"

"We're not trying to corner you."

"That's exactly what you're doing." Leon snaps as Claire tries to reason. He moves himself away from her, putting the kitchen table between them.

"These people are your friends and they're concer.."

"Who the fuck are you?!" Leon barks at the as yet unnamed man who's also gotten to his feet to back up Claire.

"My name is Martin.."

"Martin.." Leon chuckles. "Get the fuck out of my house."

"He's a counsellor." Claire explains.

"I get alllll the therapy I need from work, hon." Leon shakes his head at her. "In fact, I could do with less of it. People constantly asking me how I am, it's driving me insane."

"That's a different kind of therapy," Ingrid speaks up, "that's to talk about the job. We're here because we're worried about your health."

"I understand your job is very stressful," Martin placates, "it's understandable you turn to vices like sex and drinking to cope."

At that, Leon lets out a full on belly laugh, and turns on Claire fully. Stalking toward her, it's enough to make Chris stand a little straighter.

"Oh it's sex too now?!" He probably sounded a bit like a maniac, but this was legitimately blowing his mind. That his so called friends would do this to him.

"I'm alcoholic AND a sex addict? I wonder where THAT came from?" He turns his daggers to Helena who dips her eyes away from him. He grits his teeth.

"You realize this crazy bitch thinks we're in some kind of relationship? When I've been telling her since she asked me out for a drink on our flight home from China, that I'm not looking for anything serious? That I'm not looking for commitment? And she's created some batshit scenario in her head where we're dating and I'm a cheating asshole? Do you ever KNOW her, Claire?" He rants.

Claire sighs, looking from him to Helena and back again. "Leon please try to calm down. We're just worried about you."

"Worried about me having sex?" he looks at her like she grew another head.

"Mostly worried about the drinking, but if you're hooking up with lots of different women that's also a coping mechanism."

He rolls his eyes.

"You're treating women like shit." Helena speaks up and Leon rounds on her, partly amused and partly furious.

"No, just you sweetheart, you're special."

She looks at him in disgust and a part of him hates himself for saying it. But when you corner a lion, it fights back with teeth and claws.

"Lets all just take a moment, this isn't about blame or accusations.." Martin speaks up loudly and calmly. Leon unholsters his gun and drops it on the kitchen table, shutting the man up.

"Get out." He rumbles. Looking around the group.

"Leon.." Sherry speaks up delicately.

"You.." he shoots her a glare, "You're part of this? Really?" Her presence kinda hurt.

"Just you've seemed so stressed out lately. Like you've been walking a tightrope since you got back from China." She stammers.

"I thought you knew me better, Sherry." He sighs.

"Don't take it out on her, she's just here because she cares." Rebecca speaks up. "We all do. This isn't an attack."

"So you keep saying. Why do I feel like I'm being backed into a corner?" he asks.

"Because you're in a corner already, that you can't see a way out of." Chris speaks up quietly, "I was there too. You know it. Trust me on this man.. it's not an attack. We want to help."

"Well I'm not you." Leon dismisses him. "I already decided to cut back on drinking, and who I have sex with is none of your business. Is that all? You can leave." He thumbs to the door again, turning away from them.

"I knew he was just going to be pig headed about it," Helena mutters.

"Oh fuck off." He turns back around. "Last night you threw a drink on me and now you want to save me?"

"She did what?" Claire looks shocked.

"I was sitting with a girl in a bar and she threw a whole drink on me, slapped me in the street because she's under the delusion we're in a relationship.. and this is who you're listening to?" He gestures from Helena to Claire.

"I didn't know that." Claire looks at her.

"He was picking up another Ada lookalike, I saw red.. pun intended." Helena rolls her eyes.

"She looked nothing like Ada. You're obsessed."

"I think you're the one obsessed with Ada." Helena laughs, "abandoning me in the middle of a war zone to go save her, leaving me alone on the side of a burning skyscraper."

"You told me to go after her!"

"Simmons could have won cause you were too busy chasing someone you can't have. That woman is ruining you, Leon. She's playing with you. And you're wrecking everything else because of her."

He couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"Me, Claire.." Helena gestures and Claire holds her hands up.

"Whoa don't bring me in to that."

"You told me! He called you that bitches name when you guys hooked.."

"HELENA!" Claire snaps, shutting her up. Leon drags a hand through his hair and the shadow of Chris Redfield looms.

"He did what when you guys what?" Chris says quietly.

"Chris.." Claire puts her hand on her brothers chest. Leon wishes Helena dead.

"They hooked up! And he called her Ada." Helena reveals.

Leon closes his eyes.

"Claire?" Chris looks at his sister who stares back at him, her mouth opening but no sound coming out. "When?"

"Harvardville." Leon murmurs.

"You sack of shit." Chris snarls, charging at him like a stampeding buffalo. Leon catches him in the tackle and is slammed back against his fridge. Chris pulls back and throws a punch and it connects, knocking Leon in to his sink. He throws a hard kick out and back, catching Chris in the midsection. Claire yells at them to stop as an all out brawl breaks out. Sherry, Rebecca, Ingrid and Martin get the hell out of the way and Helena almost seems amused.

For their size difference, they were evenly matched. Chris had pure brawn on his side, but Leon had quickness and power. They swiftly reach a stalemate in the small space, locked in a grapple. Seething.

"I don't wanna fight with you." Leon hisses, looking the other man in the eye.

"Chris stop it! It was a long time ago, it doesn't matter!" Claire pleads.

"Let them go, maybe it'll knock some sense in to them. Did you even tell Chris Ada's still alive, Leon?" Helena scoffs.

"Oh leave, bitch." Claire orders, "it was a mistake inviting you, you've done enough damage!"

Leon lets out a growl of anger and shoves a stunned looking Chris back in to the wall.

"Ada's what?!" The other man seethes, about to come after him again, Leon grabs his gun from the kitchen table and levels it on him.

"All of you, get out." He snarls in a panted breath.

Silence.

"Take your intervention, take your bullshit, and leave." He growls through his teeth.

"Leon.." Sherry whimpers.

"Now." He demands.

He wanted nothing to do with any of them. Not anymore.


	5. Seeing Red

**Authors Note:** Riddle me this. If you're not in to dark subject matter, why would you click on a story marked 'Horror/Drama'? Pretty sure neither of those genres are jam packed with giggles.

Thankyou for the love notes regardless, I always appreciate it. I know my stories can be emo, its just what I'm good at, but here.. have some filth.

Onward!

P.S. In case you missed it cause I added the note a bit late on the last one. A Lizzie PB would be Amanda Seyfried. Though she aint in this chapter so.. whatever.

* * *

 **Your broad shoulders, my wet tears**  
 **You're alive and I'm still here**  
 **Some half human creature thing**  
 **Can you bring life to anything?**

 **Love?**

 **Just looking for a protector**  
 **God never reached out in time**  
 **There's love, that is a savior**  
 **That ain't no love of mine**

 **My Love it kills me slowly,**  
 **Slowly I could die**  
 **And when she sleeps she hears the blues**  
 **Sees shades of black and white**

 **\- Wolf Alice "Silk"**

 _^ Listen to this song, just because its amazing and it sums up this chapter_

* * *

The door clicks shut and he's finally alone. Alone and a little thrown by what had just happened – more than a little, actually. It was a lot to process. He wasn't stupid, he knew he drank too much but if it didn't effect his ability to do his job and he wasn't hurting anybody but himself he didn't see why it mattered? He had never missed a beat, when it came time to work and be 'Agent Kennedy' he was always on, even half way through a bottle. He never drank when he was officially on duty. He was a professional – it happened in his own time, on his own dime, and it allowed him to douse the furies and get a little sleep. Something that no amount of talking or meditating or any of the other hippy dippy self help methods had been able to achieve.

And the women? He was a guy that enjoyed sex, and in all honesty he looked death in the eye on a regular basis. There's nothing better for taking your mind off of the horrible shit you've seen than losing yourself in a beautiful woman, and that wave of pleasure. Again, he didn't feel like he was hurting anybody – he was always up front, he made a point of it, of letting them know where they stood and what was happening. He couldn't help what Helena had concocted in her brain, maybe she was feeling the trauma of China and losing her sister too, maybe she was clinging to him like little Lizzie had. She couldn't let him go. Near death situations and grief did strange things to a persons brain.

He could even see where Helena might be coming from. But if he wasn't harming anybody, he didn't think he deserved to be labelled a bad person because he drank off duty and enjoyed getting laid.

Leon rinses a cloth under his kitchen tap and brings it to his lip, swiping away the small trickle of blood courtesy of Chris Redfield. With the bleeding stemmed, he tests his jaw, rolling it around a bit and then sighing heavily and bracing his hands on the counter. Now that those two feral cats were out of the bag, things had gone from bad to worse. The look of betrayal in Redfields eyes when Helena had spat out the fact Ada was still alive had stabbed him in the soul. There needed to be a conversation, but he wasn't sure they could have one without it ending up in more traded blows and fury. You didn't sleep with a man's little sister, and break her heart, AND not tell him the woman that may or may not have killed his entire squad was still alive, without things getting a bit dicey.

His instinct is to reach for the bottle. Get trashed, forget. But he reins it in. He could do self control and a grim determination to do so settles in. Maybe Claire's intervention would work after all.

He drops the bloody cloth in the sink and shrugs off his jacket, dumping it over the back of a chair and then peeling off his shirt. His shoulder twinges as he does this, and he makes a face, running his hand over the battle scar that sat just above his heart. An old gunshot wound, healed over, scar tissue still pulled and tweaked a nerve now and then.

Tell this man he didn't deserve a drink.

When he's changed in to sweatpants and comfortable, he orders Pizza and drinks a fucking soda. Settled in on his couch, feet up, watching old Friends reruns. His foot wouldn't stop twitching. But he wasn't giving in to it, he'd show all of them. He's mindlessly grinding his teeth when his phone rings, he quickly snatches it up.

"Kennedy."

"Leon?"

It was Claire. He hangs up, then looks up the number of a locksmith to come change the locks on his doors. Tomorrow was supposedly a day off, barring more murder and mayhem, he finds a guy able to come out in the morning and get it done. When he finishes the call, there's two missed. Both from Claire. Leon angrily blocks her number.

There's a few more calls that evening, from Sherry and from Ingrid. He ignores them all and eats his Pizza. Sometimes solitude was his absolute best friend, it settled his mind, helped him pick through the mess inside. By the time he goes to bed, he feels strangely calm. Maybe he was just used to being an island in a storm, it was what made him so good at what he did.

There's no murder that night. No dawn phone call causing him to scramble in to clothes, no horrific crime scene to dissect. Instead he wakes with a thumping headache which isn't fair at all considering he hadn't drunk a single thing in over 24 hours. Maybe it was alcohol leaving his system. He stays in bed and thinks about this for a while, watching a sunbeam move between a crack in the blinds and idly scratching his chest. It was a very rare occasion Leon Kennedy just lay in bed scratching like a regular dude, it felt good. Eventually he leans over and picks up his phone, rolling his eyes at a handful of missed calls and still no response from Ada.

He wasn't obsessed. He was curious. Wouldn't you want to know if you'd slept with some kind of genetically freakish pod woman?

That was his excuse and he was sticking to it.

He gets up after a while and pads to the bathroom, taking care of bodily functions and taking a long, scalding hot shower. It clears his mind a bit and as he brushes his teeth his eyes fall on the date on his phone. He closes them for a moment, then spits out the foam in his mouth and rinses, drying off with a towel he pockets the phone and returns to his room to dress. The usual Leon Kennedy attire, jeans, t shirt, leather jacket. He was nothing if not reliable.

Leon heads down the street and picks up breakfast, then returns to his apartment to wait for the locksmith. It doesn't take long for the man to do his job, and Leon's presented with a shiny new key. He was considering adding a deadbolt, or maybe a rabid dog on a chain. With all of that taken care of he ventures back out, this time heading for the liquor store. He buys a half bottle of cheap whiskey and tucks it into the pocket of his jacket. It wasn't for him.

With his gift tucked away he gets his bike – a Harley Davidson softail – and he takes a sadly familiar ride to the outskirts of the city, and the cemetery there. He knew too many people that rested here, it wasn't his favorite place in the world to come. As he passed between the head stones he saw familiar names, men and women that had died fighting this relentless war against things made in labs. Then he comes to a simple stone, only a year old, with an ornate engraving like a scroll header at the top.

His Father passed away a year ago today.

Leon had brought him from Colorado to D.C when he got sick, getting him the best medical care possible. But for all the world ending monstrosities science had created, they still hadn't figured out a way to stop the beast that was Cancer in it's tracks. It had been a relatively short battle, the disease aggressive and already advanced before it had been diagnosed. A few months, and it was over. Another parent lost to the body simply turning on itself. Humans were strange that way, if they weren't self destructive on a cellular level, then they were in psyche.

He stands over the grave for a little while, thinking these thoughts, then reaches out and runs his fingers over the sloped arch of the marble. It felt cool despite the sun shining down on them. He smiles a little and draws his hand back, tucking it into the pocket of his jacket and digging out the whiskey bottle. Unscrewing the cap, he takes a single swig from it – a mouthful, nothing more. Then turns it upside down, emptying it onto the grass covered grave. His Dad used to drink endless cheap whiskey. Leon remembered it from when he was a kid, always a bottle around. They always left some out for Santa on Christmas Eve. Alcohol had been a big feature in his entire life, was it any wonder it had become a crutch?

Bottle empty, and toast made, he props the empty against the headstone in place of a bunch of flowers. It might seem disrespectful, but if you'd known his Dad, he'd be laughing.

He feels her presence before she says a word, drawing in a breath of his own.

"You been waiting here for me?" He asks.

"I figured you'd show up." Claire answers in a slightly cautious tone, arriving at his side.

"I blocked your number for a reason."

"I'm sorry." She sighs, folding her arms around herself. "About everything. Helena.. I didn't know."

"What did she tell you, that we were dating and I was treating her badly?" He asks grimly.

"Something like that." Claire admits. "That you were hung up on Ada, drinking too much.."

"How did she even know about us?" He asks with a small frown.

"Because I'm an idiot," she shrugs, "girl talk. We got coffee.."

"And you picked me apart."

Claire bites her lip, looking at the ground.

"I don't need saving, Claire." He murmurs. "I do the saving."

"Everybody needs saving sometimes.." She looks up to him, but he keeps his eyes on his fathers grave. "Especially from themselves."

"I don't need that, either." Leon rumbles, "how many times do I have to tell people I'm alright?"

"Are you?"

"I can do my job. I might go off the deep end directly after a big one but I always get my shit together. I'm never off beat, ask anybody." He defends himself, "and the women? C'mon, Claire. You know me better than that. I've never set out to hurt or use anyone, I'm always up front with women. The only major fuck up I ever made was with you." He still doesn't look at her.

"Maybe it's me.. maybe I'm still bitter about that.." Claire closes her eyes, doing a little introspection.

He swallows down a dryness in his throat. He could smell that whiskey in the ground. "I'm sorry I made it so impossible for you to love me." He just about whispers it. Claire's intake of breath is audible.

"You didn't." Her voice cracks, and he feels her hand close around his as it hung at his side. She links their fingers and he looks at the ground. Then with a heavy sigh he pulls away, tucking his hands in the pockets of his jacket and making his way back through the cemetery to his waiting bike. He hears her call after him, but she knows better than to give chase.

* * *

The ride home clears his head, Claire had a tendency to make his world foggy. At the same time as being his anchor, she was a ripple in the water of a tranquil pond disturbed by a stone. She got under his skin, made him feel things sometimes he didn't want to. He wasn't ready to forgive her for yesterdays stunt, it had been a sharp kick in the balls as well as the heart. That his friends thought of him as some drunk that couldn't take care of himself. He'd been taking care of himself for fucking years, he'd fought through entire towns that wanted to kill him and come out just fine. He didn't need people to look out for him, he just needed people to be fucking loyal and trustworthy. Traits he valued above almost all others and held himself up to like a religion. His loyalty was unwavering, if Leon Kennedy had your back you could consider yourself under his guard and protection. He'd legitimately die for the people he was loyal to. Unless you kicked him in the nuts.

All of them had done that spectacularly.

He arrives back at his apartment at the same time as his neighbor, who gives him a look.

"What?" Leon asks as he puts his key in the door.

The younger man leans against his and seems like he's trying to find the courage to say something. "You're.. what is it you do?" He asks eventually.

Leon's eyebrow arches. "I fight the monsters you pretend to." He answers after a moment, then opens his door, heading inside and leaving his nosy young friend to figure that one out on his own.

Shrugging off his jacket, he hangs it over a chair and goes to the fridge, pulling out a carton of orange juice and drinking directly from it like a complete Neanderthal.

"The wanderer returns."

"JESUS!" He jumps and drops the carton, orange juice splashing everywhere. He looks wide eyed toward the rarely used armchair in the corner of the room and sees her sitting there, then looks to his door and back. "I just had the fucking locks changed."

Ada gives him an amused smile, sitting in that chair with her legs crossed and her hands delicately placed on the arms of the seat, like she was on a throne. She looked good – really good. Her hair a little longer than in China, it settled at her jawline now in a feathery cut. Her trademark deep red lips set up her lightly outlined eyes. She was dressed in thigh high black boots with a high heel and red leather leggings underneath. A black blouse completed the look. He notices her nails are also painted in alternating black and red. His very own Harley Quinn. Did that make him The Joker?

"Locks are for amateurs," she purrs at him, then flicks her gaze to the orange juice pooling at his feet. "And I doubt Jesus is going to help you clean that up."

His mouth opens and closes again a bit like a guppy and then he nods. "Right." Moving quickly he grabs a handful of paper towels from near his sink and drops them down. Picking up the carton. Mopping orange juice up from his kitchen floor while Ada Wong sat watching with a smile on her face.

Women.

He decides there and then that when he finally goes out in a blaze of glory, that was what he wanted on his head stone. Nothing else, no fancy dedications, nothing about saving the world. Just that one single word. It summed his life up, everywhere he turned there was a woman making him crazy.

"Its strange," she says slowly.

"What is?" he asks, dumping a wad of wet towels in his trash.

"Seeing the great Leon Kennedy doing something domestic." Ada answers with a hitch of her shoulder. "It's not something I ever pictured."

He gathers up a handful more towels and continues cleanup. "Yep. I shower, shave and shit like everybody else."

She laughs softly, nodding. "Kinda rains on the mystery a little, don't you think?"

He eyes her sideways and chucks another wad of towels away. "What's wrong with that?"

"Reality can be a bit.." she pulls a face.

"Ain't that the truth," he clicks his tongue in his mouth, finally satisfied the orange juice spillage was under control.

"What's on your mind, love?" She asks, tilting her head at him.

"Love? That's a big word." He rinses his hands off and then leans against the sink, looking at her as he dries them.

"I've been in England, it rubbed off on me." She explains.

"England huh, London?"

She confirms with a slight dip of her chin.

"Where did you stay?" He asks with a slight smirk.

"Where I always stay."

"Ahhh," he nods, "it's a nice place. Spacious."

"Indeed." Ada runs her tongue over her lower lip and then bites it, uncrossing her legs and rising to her feet. He watches her intently. "You wanted to see me?"

"Always straight to the point, huh?" He rumbles as she draws closer to him.

"Time's precious, we never know when it's going to be up," she answers, lifting her hand and clicking her fingers.

"That's true." he agrees, his eyes trailing the length of her slender body as she finally stands in front of him. She smelled like a tropical drink, sweet, kind of coconutty. Always so good. "Starting to think I should waste less of it myself."

"Oh?"

"What are you?" he asks.

It makes her laugh, and it was dazzling. She had the most beautiful smile.

"I'm your average, run of the mill woman." She answers when the laugh passes.

"You're anything but average."

"It's nice to know you think so."

"I saw a tape.." he draws the conversation back around and she lifts her hand, biting her fingertip thoughtfully – and seductively.

"Do tell."

"Of you."

"That damn cloud.." she jokes with a roll of her eyes.

"Coming out of some pod, like a fucking butterfly." He knew what they were, he'd fought enough monsters that had come out of those shells. But how could she emerge from one of them?

"Butterflies are beautiful," she runs her fingertip across her lip, "but so fragile."

"That doesn't answer shit." He keeps his gaze on her steady, leaning still against that sink. "Are you even human, or are you some.. thing?"

"I'm human, Leon.." she says quietly, drawing up closer to him. Her clothes brush against his.

"So all this time, I haven't been fucking something that was brewed in a lab?"

Her amused smile is accompanied by a twinkle in her eyes. "There he is, there's my boy."

"Ada.."

"That wasn't me."

"Then who was it?"

"I'll explain some day, when there's more time. When I have more answers myself. But it wasn't me." She looks him in the eye and he senses no lie there.

"Is that – she – what Chris saw die?"

"Yes." She nods.

Leon bows his head, letting out the slightest laugh.

"Did you mourn me?" She asks.

He's quiet, staring at his own boots for a moment. Then he feels her hand brush over his cheek, his couple of days of stubble scratchy against her fingers, in that nice, comforting way. He brings just his eyes back up to her. "Of all the shit that happened out there, that moment was the worst." he admits. "Felt like.. like someone reached into my heart and started squeezing."

The smallest frown creases her brow. "You really care about me, don't you?"

"What gave it away?" He asks, "I've taken bullets for you."

"Why?" she asks in a whisper.

"I don't know." he answers honestly.

She lifts her other hand, cupping his face and searching his eyes. "Sometimes I think you're too good for this world of ours, Leon Kennedy." It was the most genuine he'd ever heard her sound, her voice lacking that usual – almost haughty – Ada tone. "It all still effects you. You haven't lost your heart."

"I haven't?" He asks, genuinely curious.

"You might think you have, but I see it in your eyes. You care.. so much. So much sometimes it eats you alive. I kinda wish I could take that away from you."

"Doesn't it make me better at what I do?"

"It makes you passionate. It fuels your fire.." she moves her hands, lightly brushing his hair back to get a better look at him, "but it's killing you."

He frowns. "What do you mean?"

"Because every betrayal stings like the first. Because every monster leaves you wondering why? Because you put everybody ahead of yourself and then feel alone."

He draws in a breath, pulling away from her touch and letting out a breath of a laugh. "This got a bit too real too fast."

"It's a problem." She agrees. He wasn't looking at her, but he could feel her eyes on him. "Because every time I see this world crush a little more of your spirit, it crushes a little of mine."

He looks back to her, meeting her eyes. "So save me." He says quietly. Everybody else seemed to think they could save him, why not her?

She gives him a wistful smile. "If only I could."

She was the only one that admitted she couldn't, and wasn't even going to try. Somehow, that seemed so much more effective than staging some confrontational intervention.

His hands move on their own, easing around her hips and pulling her the millimetre left between them. Her body presses against his, familiar but always exciting. Her tits press against his chest as she leans in to him and their lips meet. She tasted like sugar, those apple red lips leaving their color on his as his hands slip around to her ass and she moves her arms around his neck. Maybe she could save him without even trying.

He pushes away from the sink with nothing but core strength and then dips a little, hooking his hands at the backs of her thighs and lifting her with ease. She goes, wrapping those long legs around him and breaking the kiss to tuck his hair back and nibble at his neck as he carried her through to his bed. She holds to him like a vine around a tree as he gets on to it on his knees, then with one hand at the small of her back, he lowers her down.

The world melted away. Nothing but her beneath him, the sounds she made, the way she felt under his hands. Those boots are a pain to remove, it makes her laugh as he fiddles with the zip.

"They're $3000 boots, you better not break that zip," she warns.

"Of course they are, of course I wont.." he winks at her, finally getting one free and setting to the other. With them safely removed, he crawls back up along her body with the muscled grace of predator stalking prey. She grasps his t shirt and it's tugged over his head. She wore no bra under that blouse and with it discarded, he pays her perfect tits ample attention. He liked the way it made her moan. She might be a hellcat on the battlefield, but here? Here he was the dominant one. It was a mystery of their chemistry, how a woman so strong and self assured and in control of every situation, gave herself over to him so completely. But he repays her trust to the fullest.

As they indulge in a passion fuelled kiss, his hand travels south and ducks beneath those red leggings. One day - one day he'd ask her why she was always wearing those two colors. His Harley Quinn. Psycho with a gun. He grins to himself as his fingers find her and she gasps, arching her body toward his touch. He remembered her telling him she was hard to please, but he'd never found that to be the case.

Her hand tangles in his hair and tugs a little as he circles that tight bundle of nerves with delicate fingertips. She liked light touches, she wasn't in to rough. Another thing you wouldn't expect of her, but that was Ada in a nutshell. Unexpected. Always.

She cries out and then drags him back in to a kiss, he obliges happily. Kissing her deep, letting her body guide him. He sinks two fingers into her tight wet heat and she moans in to his mouth. Bucking against the palm of his hand for that extra friction. It doesn't take long at all, and still half clothed she arches under his attention and cries his name. Music to his ears.

As she shivers on the come down, he kisses his way down along her stomach. Removing those leggings at last, nudging her thighs wider with a brush of his hand. Round two, he uses his mouth. And she almost rips out his hair. This time her climax leaves him laughing, rising up along her body to look down at her.

"What's funny?" she puffs.

"You.. I might need hair extensions now or some shit.." He muses.

"Ill buy you some," she puffs a strand of hair from her eyes as he tucks a hand between them and unbuckles his belt. That wicked look returns to her eyes and she relieves him of his task, taking over with the fastenings and dipping her hand inside to close around his dick. He rumbles low, somewhere in his chest, as she strokes the thick length of him with a firm grip. She whispers something filthy in his ear, giving him some.. options. He grins, grasping her wrists and pinning them above her head with one hand. Options were nice, but he just wanted to feel her. With his free hand he guides himself to her and with a joint shift of their hips, he takes her.

She grips him tightly, like warm, wet velvet. A feeling so intense that it leaves him poised to unravel. When he's buried inside her, he takes a moment, forehead rested on her shoulder, getting his thundering heart under control. She definitely made him crazy.

"You're gonna be the end of me.." he pants.

"At least it'll feel good?" she consoles.

She wasn't wrong. There was going to be an angry note from his neighbor pinned to his door for sure. Once they got going, they were a relentless storm. Both of them trained for endurance and stamina in a warzone. That translated into something indescribably intense in the bedroom. After the week he'd had, she was the perfect remedy. All of it poured from him and in to her, leaving them an eventual spent, sated heap of tangled limbs.

These moments were perhaps his favorites. It was like he got to see a glimmer of who she really was. He knew that Ada was an act, he wasn't stupid. All of them had battlefield personas, people they became to get them through the rough shit they had to do. In these moments, he saw the woman she was. A gentler, happier creature. With a softness that once again, you wouldn't expect. She lies against him, her leg hooked between his, fingers tangled over his stomach. They'd been linked when they came, and those hands had remained that way since. The fingers of his free hand trace lightly along her upper arm, and there's a sleepy, lazy smile on his face.

"Did you get the answers you were looking for?" she asks eventually, tilting her chin to rest it on his chest.

He smiles. "Not yet, you might have to stay."

"You know that's not how this works.." she strokes his ribs.

"Why? Why doesn't it?"

"Because.. we don't live in a romance novel."

"We could."

"Would you really want to?"

"All I know is around you I feel..." he pauses, looking for the word, "something." He couldn't pinpoint it.

"Well, feelings get you killed." She reminds. It's a harsh truth.

"Or they save a life," he reminds. "You think I'd have jumped off the side of a building to stand over you if I didn't care?"

"Actually, I do." She smiles. "That's just who you are, Leon Kennedy."

"And who are you?"

"I'm..." she trails off, then laughs a little. "There when you need me."

He considers this. "What if I need you, right now. To stay."

She closes her eyes, sighing. "And tomorrow?"

"I have work."

"Then I'll stay."

"Until morning."

"Until morning."

"Which means you're there when I wake up." He bargains.

She grins at him, sitting up. "I make no promises."

That said, she gets up and pads naked to his bathroom. He enjoys the view, scratching his stomach as she goes.

Once she's shut herself away he reaches to the bedside table for his phone, then realizes it's not there. "Shit," he mutters. Even though it was his day off and he was off duty, he'd given the hospital his number in case Lizzie needed him, and if another murder sprang up, then his duty hours changed. He gets up, butt ass naked, and wanders through to the kitchen. Finding his jacket and digging out the phone.

His heart does a backflip.

18 Missed Calls from work and the Hospital.


	6. Beauty and the Beast

**Authors Note:** Viking torture methods are fascinating. Happy sunday! Onward!

* * *

 **I'm not gonna change**  
 **So stay out of my way**  
 **I don't need you to understand**  
 **That I'm already saved**  
 **Maybe you should stop, question all your pain**  
 **Can you look me in my eyes and say we're not the same?**

 **\- In This Moment, "Natural Born Sinner"**

* * *

"Lizzie's gone."

"What?"

"We think whatever or whoever has been committing these murders, took her."

"Why?"

"An hour ago, every security camera at the hospital started recording dead air – nothing. And nobody remembers anything, none of the Officers on duty, hospital staff, no-one. It's like it froze them in time."

Leon brings his hand to his forehead, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I should have been there."

"What makes you think you'd have been any better off?"

"I don't.. I don't know. I could have done something," he just knew it, in his gut. "Was anybody hurt?"

"No, just a lot of headaches. You need to get down there."

A serial killer with a conscience, hurting nobody as he or she extracts – what – a witness? What was it going to do to Lizzie? She'd been through enough. Leon tells them he'll be there in thirty minutes, tops, and hangs up. He runs his hands over his face and lets out a small groan, then heads through to his bedroom and grabs black jeans, tugging them on. He's fastening his belt when Ada emerges from the bathroom, still gloriously naked. So much for their day together.

"Going somewhere, handsome?" She asks with a sultry smile.

He sighs, reaching for a black button down shirt. He was feeling the color, suddenly. "Work, they need me."

"Oh?" She looks curious, perching on the edge of his bed, distracting with her killer body on display.

"Yeah, they got me working a murder case, keeping me close to home after China." He fixes the buttons, leaving the top three undone and beginning to roll up the sleeves.

"Detective Kennedy, has a ring to it." She says thoughtfully.

"Ha, not everything in this job is fighting the end of the world in foreign countries. Sometimes they're right here."

"For every monster created in a lab, there's one that's very much human." Ada sighs. Leon sits on the bed next to her, crossing his ankle over his knee and tugging on combat boots. They were just the most comfortable things he owned.

"Yeah, I just don't think whats doing this is human. Not with the things it's been doing to these scientists." He looks at her out of the corner of his eye. Her interest definitely piqued.

"It?"

"Well, how many humans do you know that can break RPG proof glass on a 12th floor apartment and drag a man to his death? Or rip a full grown man in two and hang him off of meat hooks? Or the kicker.. it skinned another of the scientists alive, like it pulled his skin clean off. Left him lying next to it."

The look on Ada's face is one of equal parts intrigue and disgust. He shouldn't be sharing this, he knew he shouldn't be sharing this. It was classified, government business. And yet when it came to Ada, everything always came pouring out of him. He just trusted her, though honestly he had no reason to.

"Never any witnesses, security cameras always record dead air. Nobody remembers a thing. And the murders are called in by an anonymous tip." He fastens his boot in place and looks at her. "Do you know anything about the demon Goddess Lilith?"

Ada's eyebrows jump, and she smiles at him. "I'm familiar."

"Of course you are." He gets back up and grabs his holsters, fixing the straps to his body. "Someones leaving her seal at every crime scene."

Ada looks thoughtful, "maybe that's just a distraction."

He hesitates, sliding his magnum into his thigh holster. "A distraction?"

"How familiar are you with serial killers, Agent Kennedy?"

"Not as familiar as you, apparently."

That wicked smile. Who was she? "The infamous Zodiac Killer left a symbol each time he dared the police to catch him. It had them running in circles, trying to identify it. What meaning it had. But in the end they came to the conclusion that it was nothing more than a red herring, designed to have them looking in one place, while he was working in another."

"Zodiac.. I remember hearing about that." Leon grabs his leather jacket. "They never caught him, right?"

She shakes her head.

"Thats comforting." He rolls his eyes, tugging the jacket on. Checking his phone, ID, the usual.

"Then again, maybe science finally found a way to raise a demon." She hitches a shoulder and he stops in his tracks, staring at her. She laughs. "Don't think they haven't looked in to it. They've been fascinated by what's beyond us for years."

"How do you know these things? Who do you work for?" He asks suddenly.

"I could tell you," she rises to her feet and runs her hand over his chest, leaning in to brush a kiss over his lips that he returns as gently, "but I'd have to kill you."

He narrows his eyes, studying her. "I have to piss."

She wrinkles her nose, turning away from him and beginning to pick up her clothes.

"You don't have to go." He tells her, "stay. Be here when I get back." It was hopeful. She turns a smile back to him.

"Like a dutiful housewife? I'll pass."

"Ada.."

She stands straight, panties on, buttoning her blouse. "I'm not good at standing still." She explains.

"It'll only be a few hours."

"Aw.. you really want me to stay." She pouts her bottom lip at him.

"Yeah, I dunno when I'll see you again. Six months, a year, three?"

She studies him as she pulls on her tight fitting blood red pants. "I'll make you a deal."

His turn to arch an eyebrow.

"I'll do some digging in to this case of yours. And if I find anything.. you'll see me again a lot sooner."

He wanted to argue, but then with her connections – whatever they were – he'd be a fool to turn down the extra insight. Because so far the DSO were just chasing their tails. He gives her a small nod.

"There was a girl, found at the crime scene of the last victim. She was raped, we think by the scientist, but we're not sure. She remembers nothing. Eighteen years old – maybe. Homeless, street kid. She's covered in what looks like surgical scars but not from any surgery we know of. She says her names Lizzie. Elizabeth Eve Evans. We can't find a goddamn thing on her, nothing. She doesn't exist."

Ada fixes a boot in place. "They always exist somewhere." She says quietly, "you just have to know where to look."

"And you do?"

"Maybe."

"This cryptic shit really gets under my skin.." he admits.

It makes her smile. "And that's why we could never be." She stands, fully clothed.

"You know everything about me, and I know nothing about you." He murmurs as she comes closer.

"You know how I taste.. how I feel.." she purrs and it sends a thunderbolt right to his dick. "I let you closer than most, Leon. Closer than I should."

"I've trusted you with my life. Why won't you trust me with yours?" He challenges gently.

Her smile is wistful, almost wanting. "Another life, maybe."

"Ada.."

"You better go."

He draws in a breath. He really should.

They share a parting kiss, it lingers maybe longer than both of them intend it to. Then he heads to the bathroom, knowing full well that when he emerges, she'll be gone.

He isn't wrong. Finding the apartment empty, he gathers his keys and heads out. Sure enough there's a note from the neighbor pinned to his door. It makes him chuckle as he leaves.

With nothing more than a sip of alcohol in almost 48 hours, he takes his own car to the hospital and pulls up outside to a scene of bemused chaos. People in shock, trying to figure out what the hell happened. He heads inside and is greeted by Chief 'Not paid enough for this shit' who leads him to Lizzie's former room.

"According to hospital staff, she was the model patient. Not aggressive, co-operated with everyones questions, just didn't remember anything. She was asleep, and then.." he clicks his fingers.

They round a corner and reach the hallway Lizzie's room had been on. Leon slows his walk, taking in the scene. The door was torn clean from the wall, and not just the wooden frame. Plaster littered the floor and the wooden door itself was smashed to pieces. The wall opposite the room was cracked, like something had been thrown in to it. Maybe the guarding officers? Leon glances at it, then in to the room itself. IV lines dangled where they'd been left, the bed obviously empty, everything else untouched.

"There was a camera on this room?"

"Yes."

"I need to see it."

"One of your colleagues is already reviewing it."

"Oh?" He inwardly grimaces, if Redfield was here then they might have more to worry about than a door torn out of the wall.

"An Agent Birkin?" He clarifies.

Leon nods, "show me."

There's a small relief in knowing it's not Chris. But Sherry had betrayed him too, he wasn't exactly overjoyed by the prospect of having to handle her either, but he was professional. He's led to the security guard station and as he enters, Sherry looks up and gives him a bright smile. He doesn't return it.

"Leon!"

"Hey. Whatcha got?" he asks flatly.

She hesitates, her face falling a little, then turns to the screens. "A whole lotta nothing." She sighs.

"Let me see." He moves over to the console and reviews the footage. One second Lizzie's lying in her bed sound asleep, nothing out of the ordinary, then dead air. A blank, black screen. He chews on the inside of his cheek. Looking at the controls and then winding it back. He sets it to manually move frame by frame. One painstaking image at a time, he studies each of them. Sherry stands just behind him, watching quietly. He could tell she wanted to say something, but thankfully she keeps quiet.

"There.." he mutters, stilling the image on a frame.

"What?" Sherry peers closer.

"The mirror." He points to a mirror to the far left of the screen, above a sink. He back tracks the image one frame and the mirror is in tact, then goes forward, the mirror cracks.

"Whoa.." Sherry leans in, looking closer. If you didn't have an eagle eye, you'd never spot it. He keeps the frames passing, and suddenly its black. He chews his lip, hitting back one frame. Switching between three for a moment.

"She opens her eyes.." He says quietly.

"She does?"

"In the second before it goes dark. About ten seconds after the mirror cracks.. look." He points it out. Again, barely noticeable, she doesn't get them fully open in the frame, but they were starting to.

"She heard it coming?" Sherry suggests.

Leon draws back, standing straight and running his hand over his chin. "Maybe."

"Well what else.."

"Maybe she sensed it." He says thoughtfully.

"I don't understand, why would it leave her at Marcus White's house then come for her here?"

He shakes his head, then looks over to the Chief. "Have a team go back to the crime scenes. Look for mirrors. I want to know if they're broken."

"Alright, but what would that help?"

"Its a pattern. If its happening. And honestly we have shit to go on, whatevers doing this is laughing at us. Any pattern helps." He explains. The Chief simply nods, sighing in that 'seen too much' way and heading out to dole out some orders. Leon liked him, for all his ornery grouching, he was a good man that wanted this solved as much as they did.

"Was there anything else on White?" Leon tilts his head to Sherry.

"Just that he was a disgusting pervert." She pulls a face, "paying big money to have girls tortured on camera. Not killed, just.. abused. Looks like he got off on hurting them."

"And the Government hired this dude.." Leon chuckles bitterly, "I guess background checks aren't that thorough."

"They had him working on some classified projects, we're working on cutting through the red tape."

"That boils my balls.." He huffs, "we're all supposed to be on the same Goddamn team. How can we be when we're sealing off secrets from each other?" He pulls gum from his jacket pocket and takes a piece. "Like Simmons. Right under their damn noses, but there's so much red tape and bureaucratic bullshit nobody noticed. How can we protect the country when powerful people can seal themselves off and get away with anything? It's impossible."

Sherry gazes at him, then looks back to the still image of the girl on the security tape. "Simmons fooled a lot of us."

Leon chews and looks at her. He could see her guilt, she'd reported directly to the man and hadn't seen it coming. Part of him wanted to comfort her, but the other part was still pissed off with the kid.

"Apparently." Its a cruel thing to say, and the way she bites her lip makes him feel instantly guilty. He shakes his head and changes the subject. "No Redfield?"

"You haven't heard?"

"Heard what?"

"He pulled himself off of the case."

Leons chew slows down and he sighs heavily.

"He's back on active duty with the BSAA." She continues.

"He's been sober for three freakin months!" Leon frowns.

"Well, you try talking him out of something when he's set on it."

He shakes his head, groaning a little. "I'm not taking the blame for this, Claire can stick it up her ass."

More words he didn't really mean, and Sherry looks away from him.

"We need to find Lizzie, standing here isn't accomplishing shit." He snaps finally, heading out and leaving Sherry watching after him.

Back in his car he sits leafing through a folder of crime scene photos he'd looked at a thousand times. None of them offering anything new or helpful, none of them showing a mirror. They had jack shit to go on, and yet he felt like they were on the cusp of something. Mostly, he felt like he'd let Lizzie down. He should have been here, he should have just stayed. Instead of taking his day off and ending up balls deep in Ada.

An hour ago he'd been in heaven, now he felt like he was circling hell.

Angrily he throws the folder down and his hands grip the wheel, trying to think what he could do to get Lizzie back. But what could he do without a single witness, with nobody to even point them in the right direction. He needed to become fucking psychic.

"Where are you, kid?" He asks himself quietly as he drives out from the hospital. If she turned up dead, he'd never – ever – forgive himself. If White was paying people to torture girls on camera, he didn't want to think what she'd been through at his hands before this revenging demon had shown up. But what did it want with her now? Had they just interrupted it when they'd shown up at the mansion? Maybe that was it.

After an hour of driving, checking out some of the dingiest corners of the city and trying to engage that gut instinct that never usually steered him wrong, he gives up and returns to the Headquarters. It might be his day off, but he needed to kick the shit out of something in the gym.

The gym is mercifully empty, giving him free rein to growl and snarl as loud as he liked as he took out his aggression on that poor, suffering punch bag. It would need new stuffing pretty soon, he was sure. By the time he's done his arms are aching and his knuckles scuffed despite protective tape. He unwinds it and throws it in the trash, setting to one armed push ups and working on core strength. He relied upon that possibly more than anything, it gave him complete control over his body and movements, really handy when you needed to flip your way through some bullshit laser trap or something.

Two hours later, he feels calmer and a little more centered. Stretching off the work out and going for a shower. It's as he leaves the locker room, a familiar face walks back in to his life. Though he's hesitant as she walks toward him, half expecting a solid slap across the face on Chris' behalf.

"Kennedy."

"Valentine." He gives her a nod and a hand shake as they draw up near to each other. He notices she has a black eye and bruise on her neck. A little frown creasing his brow.

"Rough day?" he gestures a little.

"Rough week." She sighs.

"What happened?"

"The usual," Jill replies with a small shrug, "rising terrorist group in Mexico. Supposed to be an easy mission, take out the big cheese. Stop them before they release some modified virus to the population. We had Intel that they were planning an attack on California, namely San Diego. But it turned out to be bad information, pretty much a trap."

Leon makes a face, "fuck, you alright?"

"Lost half my team, felt like I was living in The Hunger Games..." She shivers a little. "When I say trap, I'm not even kidding. They lured us, shut us in to this fucking maze of an underground bunker. I fought for my life for what felt like days."

Leon feels a knot wind up in his stomach. He knew that feeling, he'd felt it in Spain. Only it actually had been days, and he supposed from her description, it really was for her too.

"Nothing like having to re-kill men you were joking with on the journey there. Three of them had families..."

"Sometimes you feel like an asshole for being the survivor," Leon murmurs.

"Right? It's fucked up, isn't it." A little frown fleets across her brow.

He lifts a hand, resting it on the top of her arm. "Don't. Everyone knows what they're signing up for when they join this fight. Their families too. It fucking sucks to high hell but we know it's a risk. You're still here, for a reason, and it's not your fault."

"I led them in there.." She says quietly.

He shakes his head. "It's not your fault."

"They were counting on me."

"Jill.."

She lifts a hand, swiping a tear away. Her bottom lip quivers.

"When did you even get back?" he asks gently.

"This morning. They just cleared me to go home.."

"Home D.C.. or home home?" He was fairly sure she lived in Phoenix, which was a whole long flight away.

"I'm gonna go stay at Chris' place here for a bit." She nods. Redfield lived between D.C and Nevada, he had a ranch in the desert that he'd turned in to a literal assault course and shooting range. It was pretty cool – except about a bazillion degrees most days.

"Well make sure that big lug takes care of you," he says quietly.

She nods absently, looking at her feet. The trauma they put themselves through for a Government that couldn't even be honest with them. Leon felt that anger creeping back in. That same betrayal he'd felt when he'd discovered Simmons was behind the death of President Benford.

"It's Peters little girls birthday today..." she sobs suddenly. He didn't need an explanation, the men that died had families.

"C'mere.." he soothes, wrapping his arm around her shoulders, his hand resting on the back of her ponytailed head and drawing her in to a hug. They didn't know each other super well, but there was a bond you shared when you bled for the same cause. And they had a lot of friends in common. She seems glad of the comfort, moving against his chest and letting some of it out.

"I'm sorry," she sniffles after a while.

"Shh, nothing to be sorry for." He reassures.

"Might change your mind when you see the damp patch on your shirt.." she laughs a little.

"Somehow I'll get through it," he chuckles in response.

"Jill!"

The familiar voice of Chris Redfield booms down the corridor. Leon grits his teeth, not looking as Jill turns her head toward him.

"Lets go."

"There you are, was looking for you." She replies, pulling back from Leon and looking up at him with a smile. He returns it as best he can. "Thankyou."

"Careful, Valentine. Stand around him too long you'll end up another notch on his bed post." Redfield snarls flatly. Making Jill frown. Leon releases her completely, turning a slightly bitter glare toward Chris.

"I'm not hitting on your woman, she needed a fucking minute."

"Oookay what'd I miss?" Jill flicks a look between them.

Chris suddenly advances toward them and Leon can't help it, he falls in to a subtle ready stance. He'd taken one punch from the guy, he deserved that much. He wasn't taking another.

"Whoa!" Jill recognizes the look in Redfields eyes and gets between them, stopping Chris in his tracks with a hand to his chest. "Seriously, what did I miss?"

"Nothing." Leon growls.

"This sack of shit fucked my sister." Chris just throws it down, like a gauntlet. "And broke her heart."

Jill looks at him.

"It was a long time ago."

"Not that fucking long ago. She told me everything."

"It was a mistake, and I've been apologizing to her every day since. I can't be more sorry than I am." He defends. "You think I wanted to hurt her? After everything?"

"I think you think with your dick." Chris looked disgusted. Leon's jaw tenses. "I think you're a fucking pretty boy who flashes that stupid hair and puppy dog eyes at women and they fall in to your bed and you treat them like dirt. I think you're blinded by tits and ass. So much so, you'll LIE.. to my FACE.. about that cunt Ada Wong being dead."

"Don't fucking call her that," Leon's fists clench.

"I'll call the woman that massacred my squad anything I want."

"She didn't do it." Leon says flatly.

"No? Funny, it fucking looked like her. Talked like her, said her name was Ada fucking Wong." Chris challenges.

"It wasn't her, and the one you saw dead wasn't her.. she helped us that day, all of us. We wouldn't have survived China if not for her."

Chris snorts, brushing him off with a laugh. "Like I said, you think with your dick."

"Guys.." Jill interrupts, pushing them apart again as they threaten to advance on each other. She looks to Leon. "I think it's best if we just go." She says after a moment, in which Leon feels more judged than he ever had in his life. "Please.. Chris. I don't need to see any more shit this week."

It stops both men in their tracks, her haunted tone making them both feel bad. Chris backs off, and Leon relaxes his posture. Jill takes a last look at Leon and gives him a small smile, though now it seemed less trusting, and that stung. He watches them go, nothing further said. When they're out of sight he turns and puts his fist through a door.

* * *

3am.

Leon wakes with a startled jump, eyes flicking open. Was it a dream? He tries for a moment to remember, then realizes his phone is ringing. With a groan he reaches over and grabs it, bringing it to his ear. He almost didn't need to listen, he knew what it was about. Another murder. Another male scientist, at a factory down town. Dr Timothy Kendall, a former goddamn brain surgeon.

Leon drags himself up and dresses back in what he'd been wearing before he went to bed. This no drinking thing, he felt like it was making him foggier, not clearer. It definitely took him a little longer to get his shit together than usual. But once he's out the door and in to the cold night air, he's good to go. Arriving at the scene to the usual mass of flashing lights and disturbed looking police officers. It was the same M.O. Anonymous tip called it in, a disguised voice, an untraceable call. Nothing to go on.

And as far as Leon could tell, no Sherry.

He doesn't query it, he just follows the Chief to the scene. It was an industrial area, full of old, worn out buildings that had seen better days. Full of factory equipment making everything from car framework to tin cans. Some of the buildings had scaffolding, and there were piles of gravel everywhere from a building site right next door. A crane towered over them, some high rise apartments in the making. Leon glances up at that before following inside, the smell of death instant.

He's greeted by the seal of Lilith, painted on a door, smaller than the others had been by a large margin. The blood it was painted in was still fresh, trickling in little beads down the wood. He uses a rag to push it open and that smell grows stronger. He steels to it and uses his flashlight. Blood was everywhere, he half expects to be told this one had just exploded. But no, the floor awash with it, he trails his flashlight over the pool and to the wall at the far end of the office room.

The scientist was nailed to a wall by his wrists, in a crucifix pose. Only instead of nails, they were long steel bars, driven right through his arms, and according to the Chief, right through the wall. The strength that would take was humanly impossible. You'd need a machine to exert that much force.

The mans stomach was torn open, his skin peeled back and stretched to its limit, giving the scientist the appearance of having wings.

"Like a reverse Blood Eagle.." Leon says thoughtfully.

"A what?"

"Old Viking torture method.. they'd crack open the ribs from the back, pull them out, string the victim up and make them look like they had wings of blood. It took a while to die. They also pulled out the lungs." He steps in to the blood pool, moving closer.

"So we got a Viking doing this?" The Chief asks sarcastically.

"Ha, I said it was like one.. not actually one. Though whatever did this... angry as hell."

He frowns, peering closer to the victims hand.

"Have forensics been in here yet?"

"Not yet, letting you get the first look." Chief gestures.

"Have them come in, there's something in his hand." Leon had nothing to draw it free with that wouldn't leave prints.

"Alright."

As he says this, there's a sudden commotion outside. Yelling and gunfire. Leon draws his magnum and bolts out of the room, back to the outside.

"What happened?"

"Something moved, out of the alleyway, it went down there!" An officer explains swiftly.

Leon's quickly on it's tail, he was a fast runner. He reaches a branch between two tall blocks and hears a sound to his left, quickly taking the path. "STOP!" He yells, drawing his gun as he sees nothing more than a shadow move around the edge of the building. He goes after it, every sense on hightened alert, ready for a fight.

Emerging in to a narrow alleyway between two more buildings, he looks to either side. To the right, a large, tar black figure seems to look back at him. It freezes him in his tracks, staring. Trying to make it out in the darkness. A feature, anything. It was like it blended in to the night – was a part of it. It had no form, nothing solid, it blurred at the edges in to the shadows. He half wondered if he was imagining it.

"Hold it right there.." He lifts his gun. Instantly it moves, and he fires two shots right at it that don't seem to have an effect. He's on its tail again, running down the alleyway as it knocks trash cans out of the way. Then they reach the foot of the building site and he skids to a halt, the blurry black figure looks back at him again and he fires another shot. It jumps.

No.. it levitates. Rising effortlessly to the top of the scaffolding like it had wings.

He hears her heeled footstep a fraction after it disappears over the edge on to the roof. Watching as Ada darts past him, aims her hookshot, and lifts from the ground. He can't help the smile on his face as she bravely follows the beast. He takes to his feet again, running the outskirts of the building with his gun trained on the roof. Waiting for a glimpse, he'd shoot this fucking things teeth out.

In the light of the moon it's hard to see, but he comes to a halt as he spots a shape on the very edge of the building.

Everything else happens like he was watching it in slow motion. He sees the streak of Ada's red leggings as she charges at it. It sidesteps her with ease, and seems to knock the gun and hookshot from her hands. She slips from the edge of the scaffolded building, and with no grapple to save her, there's nothing but a 20 floor drop between her and the ground.

"ADA!" He yells, suddenly horrified and desperate. What the fuck as he going to do, catch her? From that height? They'd both be as dead and bloody as that Scientist. But if he did nothing she was dead anyway.

He rushes forward, but for the first time in his life he's at a loss for what to do.

"NO!"

A meter before the ground, Ada stops in mid air. Hanging there, a look of horror on her face. Leon's heart pounds in his chest. Had he snapped? Had time frozen? Was he seeing things?

"Leon.." she whispers it, hung in the air a few feet from the ground and certain death.

Looking up, he sees the figure standing on the edge of the building, it had more form now. It looked more.. human – by the moonlight. He gets his shit together, racing forward to Ada and holstering his gun, he looks her over. There was nothing, nothing holding her up. No tricks. She was simply floating.

He gingerly puts his arms underneath her, and she's gently lowered in to them.

She wraps her arms around his neck, shaking. And a second later her gun and her hookshot hit the ground beside them, as Leon sinks to his knees holding her. He was as shaken as she was, and as he clings to her, he looks back up. The figure had gone. But it had saved her life.


	7. Devil May Care

**Authors Note:** This is more than just a murder horror story. It's also a story of healing and falling apart, of recognizing betrayal and mistrust. We're getting him to Vendetta, folks. Bear that in mind. Miles to go! Let the healing begin!

P.S. did you know Leon's RE4 design and gameplay got so out of hand, they turned him in to Dante and Devil May Cry was born? Of course you did. but I always enjoyed that fact. Spotting the similarities is fun.

* * *

 **You say that you'll be there to catch me**  
 **Or will you only try to trap me?**  
 **These are the rules I make**  
 **Our chains were meant to break, you'll never change me**

 **Here comes the cold again**  
 **I feel it closing in**  
 **You're falling down and all around me, falling**  
 **Stroke of luck or a gift from god?**  
 **Hand of fate or devil's claws?**  
 **From below or saints above, you come to me now**

 **\- Garbage, "Stroke Of Luck"**

* * *

Whatever was killing the scientists wanted them dead for a specific reason, of that Leon was now a million percent sure. A bloodthirsty killer didn't care who got caught in the crossfire. A murderer delighted in the deaths of others. A sociopath would have felt nothing when Ada fell and would have let her hit the ground without conscience. A bio weapon uncontrolled would have ripped her to shreds before it knocked her off the edge.

Ada had slipped from the side of the scaffold as it avoided her attack, and it had caught her. Kept her from dying and lowered her gently in to his arms.

Leon couldn't even believe he was thinking these thoughts, as he sat there in the dirt with one leg stretched out in front of him and the other tucked under it. Ada lay in his lap, shellshocked. That kind of fall knocked the wind out of you, made your head spin. Not to mention the feeling of certainty that you were going to die – that would shake up even the most hardened of people. He could still feel the bile of terror in the back of his throat, he'd never felt so helpless.

Well, he had. Once before. When Adam Benford shuffled toward him. The man he'd sworn to protect and to serve. Guarded with his life. A friend and confidant. They were going to change the world, or at the very least – change America. Adam had wanted to reveal the truths behind the Raccoon City incident, behind the corruption that lived within the heart of Americas Governments. Leon didn't know all the details, he didn't know what truths that would entail beyond the cover ups surrounding Raccoon City, but Benford had been adamant, and Leon was behind him all the way.

Until Derek C Simmons had him killed. Framing Leon and Helena for his assassination along the way. The Presidents own National Security Advisor, a fucking traitor. How many more traitors did Leon work side by side and not know about? These Scientists worked within the Government now and one of them was already turning up a shady, evil past. Could you trust anybody? He was starting to wonder. But all he could do was his best, keep trying, keep fighting. Just hope the traitors reared their ugly heads in time for him to cut them off before they could do even more damage.

He trusted Ada. He didn't know why. Maybe because she'd saved him from death so many times. Maybe because even though she kept secrets from him, what she did tell him always turned out to be the truth. Maybe that was why he'd revealed this murder case to her – because he trusted her more than he trusted the goddamn people he worked for. Sometimes she felt like the only real thing in his life.

"I got you," he says softly as she seems to come around, her pretty eyes opening to look up at him.

"Did that really just happen?" she asks in an equally quiet tone.

"It really just happened." He confirms, looking from her and up to the rooftop. Nothing there now but moonlight. He licks his dry lips and looks back down to her. "What did you see?"

Ada closes her eyes, like she was trying to think. "I don't know. A figure, it looked like it was bleeding black tar.."

"From a wound?"

"No, just.. all around it. Like an aura. But it's form was almost human." She frowns, remembering. "Larger than a human, but.." Her eyes open again and she looks in to his.

"It pushed you?"

"It just didn't want me to shoot it.." Ada responds carefully, like she was unsure herself of what she was saying, but somehow knew it was true. "It knocked the guns from my hand and.. I slipped."

"And somehow it caught you." He gazes down at her. None of this made sense. None at all. Because if it was real that meant whatever this thing was it could – what? Control things with nothing but its mind? "I've never heard of that. I've never... I thought that was just movies. Fucking, Carrie."

They get no further in to the theorizing as the flashing blue lights of a police car round upon them, an officer getting out and shouting over to him.

"Agent Kennedy, do you need assistance?"

They thought he had the suspect, they had no idea who Ada was. The two of them share a sudden, concerned look. "I'm alright!" He calls back to them, "she was knocked down by the suspect. It got away."

The officer crosses over to them and Ada ducks her face, hiding it against his chest. He isn't entirely sure why, but he could guess. He covers for her, moving his arm to give an extra shield.

"Is she hurt?"

"She's okay, just shaken up. She's a witness so.. I'll take care of her." He lies. He outright lies to a police officer. But the DSO had control over this case, he was the one doing the reporting. He'd been lied to and deceived enough times by people looking to end the world. A lie to protect someone that wanted protecting was not beneath him. Not right now.

Leon had always straddled a fine line between doing what was asked of him, doing what was right, and doing what he felt – in his heart – was for the best. Sometimes it was an internal battle that physically hurt, but recent events were making it easier and easier to follow his heart and his gut, rather than blindly following the rules. The officer escorts them back to the crime scene and Leon assists Ada in to the back of his car, where she sits and says she'll wait for him. He nods, leaving her there and heading back to the scene of the murder. He steps through the police tape and in to the factory building, that awful smell of death hitting him again.

There were more footsteps in the small sea of blood now, the forensics team had been sweeping through the area. The body remained, pinned to the wall by the two iron rods, made from twisted metal, the same kind they used to secure foundations in buildings. The chief brings him a photograph of the other side of the wall, the bars were pierced clean through layers of brick and cement. Jutting out the other side like macabre birthday cake candles.

"What did they find in his hand?" He asks quietly, standing before the mutilated body. He realizes what the smell is, beyond the blood and gore. It's the metallic smell of fear that radiated off of someone that had died in agony. Very few people knew that smell, Leon was unfortunate enough to be more than familiar with it. He'd sent so many to their painful deaths. It makes his jaw tense, his eyes skimming over the corpse again. Torn from the sternum to his abdomen, skin pulled aside and hooked over the rods, giving him the look of a revolting bird spreading it's wings.

The Chief returns a moment later holding an evidence bag. Leon takes it and brings his torch up to it. It was a medical tag, the kind they put around your wrist when you were admitted to hospital. He narrows his eyes, looking closely. The name was mostly scuffed out, but he could make out a few of the letters. He mentally notes them down and turns the bag over. Looking at the other side, his breath catches in his throat.

The Umbrella logo.

He lowers the bag, looking at the man in front of him, studying his tortured face by the light of his torch.

"What did you do?" He asks in a quiet rumble. If only the dead could talk.

"What?" The Chief speaks up, answering his question. Leon shakes his head, looking over his shoulder and back to him.

"Nothing. Just talking to myself. I'm going to take this.." he waves the bag a bit. "Have everything else sent to our offices?"

"Aye aye sir.." The Chief sighs, gesturing to the body, "can we get him down now? Nobody should have to stay like that."

"Yeah, get them in here." Leon nods, tucking the evidence bag in to his pocket he steps out of the blood and back to the outside. Nodding at a couple of officers and heading back to his car. He opens up the drivers seat and looks in to the back – of course, Ada's gone. He grits his teeth, continuing to gaze at the spot where she'd sat for a few moments, then turning and smacking the wheel of his car with a thump of his palm. He hated her sometimes almost as much as he cared about her.

Starting the engine, he makes the drive back to his place. It was almost 6am and the world was waking up. People headed to work all over the city. He stops by a coffee shop and picks up a black coffee and a pastry, his stomach growling. He ends up sitting in the small parking lot of his apartment building and eating it, drinking his coffee, mulling over the events of the night and the last 24 hours in general. Somewhere amidst it all, he quietly hopes Jill is okay. He wanted to send her a message, but he wasn't going to risk Chris thinking he was moving in on his territory or some other male ego bullshit. Chris was obviously feeling extra protective over 'his women' right now, since the revelation that his baby sister had been felt up by the worst man on planet earth.

At least that was how it seemed to Leon he thought of him. He'd never had a little sister, he didn't know how he'd feel about someone he knew or had worked with sleeping with her. Or breaking her heart. He supposed he'd be just as angry.

He finishes his on the road breakfast with a sigh and gets out of his car. He needed to shower and change then get back in to work, he had a feeling it was going to be a long day in front of computers and photos of ripped apart people. He tosses the pastry wrapper in a trash can as he enters the building, and clutches the coffee as he heads upstairs. He usually ran the three flights of stairs rather than taking the elevator, it was all good cardio. Today he walks, draining the last of the coffee.

When he reaches his floor, he stops in the doorway, looking down the corridor toward his apartment. He sighs, bowing his head for a moment, then pushes on. Moving up toward where Sherry sat on the floor, her knees drawn up to herself, hugging them.

"Hey, kid.." he says quietly.

Sherry jumps, looking around and up at him with almost fearful smile. She'd been crying. It makes him frown.

"How long have you been sitting here?" He asks, standing over her.

"Uh.." she tugs her sleeve down and wipes her cheeks with it, "an hour or so?"

"You weren't at the crime scene." He queries.

"I'm sorry, I.." she opens her mouth like she couldn't find the words. Instead she just shakes her head.

"Too much?" he asks gently. He couldn't stay angry at her, he just couldn't. Not when she was sitting on his literal doorstep, crying. Waiting for him. Probably because he'd been such a piece of shit to her earlier.

"I don't think I'm cut out for this.." she sniffles, looking up to him with a small, sad laugh.

Leon sighs heavily, then turns his back to the wall beside her and slides down it to sit next to her on the floor. He carefully places his empty coffee cup down beside him and gives her a little smile. "You're braver than you think," he murmurs.

"I'm not." She swipes that sleeve over her eye again. "I keep messing everything up. Freaking out. I thought I could handle anything but.."

"You can. Look at you, you're Supergirl.." he lifts his hand, gently taking her chin. She laughs a little.

"Jake called me that." She sighs.

"Well, he seemed like a good kid too."

"I miss him."

"So call him." He shrugs.

"I don't have a number or.. anything. I don't know where he is."

"Someone will. We'll track him down." He nods, resting his head back against the wall, "one thing I've learned recently, life is too goddamn short to not have the people you care about in it."

She looks at him sadly. "That's why I'm here. I'm so sorry, Leon."

He closes his eyes.

"I didn't know it was going to be like that. Claire just said she was worried and it would help you. I didn't know all those things.. or that it was just going to be.."

"A mugging?" he asks, opening his eyes and looking back to her.

She nods. "I can't deal with you hating me. I never wanted that. I just thought you were in trouble and.. you saved me.." She gestures a little, "I wanted to save you. Pay you back." She breaks in to another sob and he feels awful. Maybe he really was terrible with women, they were just breaking down all over the place. Then again, the world had been especially harsh lately. To everybody.

"Aw, kid.." He moves, shifting his arm around her and pulling her in to a hug. "I don't hate you. I could never hate you. I was just.. pissed off. Sometimes people don't like to be told when they're making bad decisions. And I've done some serious fucking up in my time." He explains as she rests her head on his shoulder. "Nobody likes to be told they're not perfect. Claire had a point."

"She did?"

"I've been... using drink as a crutch I guess. I knew it anyway. I'm giving cutting back a shot.. stone cold sober for three days now." He chuckles.

Sherry sighs. "That's great, but I don't care if you're drunk or sober, you're always just Leon to me. You have your shit together better than anybody I've ever met."

At that, he laughs. "I love ya darlin' but you've never been more wrong."

"Are you kidding me? I might be Supergirl, but you're a legit Superhero. How many times have you saved the world now?"

He shrugs his shoulders, a side to side shake of his head leaned against the wall. "I don't even know, stopped counting."

"Do you know how cool that is?" She exclaims. It makes him chuckle.

"Well I'm glad you think so. You can be my one woman cheerleading squad. Everyone else thinks I'm a fucking jackass." He sighs.

"No they don't."

"Check in with the Redfields some time, they'll correct you." He smirks, leaning his cheek against the top of her head.

"Screw em. Chris is just salty you banged his sister, he'll get over it."

The charm of youth, its amusing, "yeah, not so sure he'll get over me not telling him Ada's still alive."

"I don't understand." She looked utterly confused.

"Heh, neither do I really. Fuzzy on the details. I do know I trust Ada.. one of the few people left that I do. To be honest. And she says it wasn't her that killed his squad. Maybe it was some kinda.. clone. These days, anything's possible." He rolls his eyes.

"Tell me about it, seems the worlds just a scifi movie."

"We are so far beyond the Twilight Zone at this point, we need a map to get back.." Leon muses and makes her laugh. The two of them chuckle about that for a moment, then fall silent. He gives her a little squeeze. "So, you want off this case or what?"

She sighs, shrugging a shoulder. "No? Maybe? I just.. don't know if I'm good enough. Brave enough. I look at you and Chris and Jill and Jake and.. I'm just surrounded by these amazing people that aren't afraid. You're all just fearless. Over and over again you face these monsters and these world ending scenarios. In China you told us 'You get used to it'... how? How are you not terrified every single time? Because I was. I couldn't stop it. And now, the thought of some Bio Weapon skinning people alive that work for the Government... how do I become as fearless as you?"

She looks up to him for answers, lifting her head from his shoulder and for a while he quietly considers this. Maybe she needed a little truth, from the heart.

"I'll let you in on a secret," he says, looking back down to her and meeting her eyes. "The truth is you never stop being afraid. Being brave doesn't mean you stop being afraid, it just means you learn to compartmentalize it. And you just live with it." He gives her shoulder a little squeeze and offers her a gentle smile. "You can even use it sometimes. You get adrenaline from being afraid. If you can learn to let it motivate you rather than conquer you, it can become a powerful weapon."

"It can?"

"You didn't feel it?" He asks, "back there in China, when you're staring that giant in the face? You felt afraid, right?"

"Yes."

"And that motivated you to fucking live, didn't it." He nods. "It made you fight. Because being afraid isn't stronger than your will to live."

She looks thoughtful, "I guess it did."

"I know it did. I saw it. I saw the fear in your eyes and I saw you fight. You put that fear in its place and you do what you have to to survive. That's all we do. All of us. There's no magic formula in anybody that leads them to bravery, it's just having the guts to put yourself there in the first place."

"How do I do that?"

"You already do it," he taps her forehead gently. "You've been doing it since you were ten."

She lets out a little giggle and lifts his hand, ruffling her hair. "Bravest kid I know." He encourages.

"Thanks." She wraps her arm around his middle and gives him a squeeze. Maybe this was what it felt like to have a little sister. If anybody hurt Sherry, he'd gut them.

It's a small moment of clarity for Leon Kennedy.

"One thing I know, nobody can be brave with no breakfast. You hungry?" He asks.

"A bit." She sighs.

He pushes himself to his feet with a loud groan of effort, making a joke about him being older than dirt, then holds his hands out to her. She takes them and he helps her to her feet, then unlocks his door, letting them in.

"You can actually cook?" She asks.

"Ha, enough to live. I can do eggs and toast?" He suggests.

"Sounds good to me." Sherry smiles, moving in to his apartment as he closes the door. He heads to the kitchen and shrugs off his jacket, putting his phone on the table in case work called and then ducking in to the fridge. He pulls out a carton of eggs and for the first time in what felt like fucking forever, he whips up breakfast.

It's really pretty good. As scrambled eggs on toast go. She covers hers in ketchup and he pretends to be offended. Finishing up, he sits back in his chair, cradling his mug of coffee while she finishes. He ate like a horse, always the first to finish.

"I need to shower and change and stuff," he sighs, putting the coffee down and stretching. "You gonna hang around? I'll drive you into the office."

"Sure, I'll take care of these," she smiles to him, finishing her coffee and clearing up the plates. He nods his thanks and gets to his feet, telling her to make herself at home with the TV or whatever she wanted. Then he goes through to his bedroom, pushing the door closed and undressing. The bottom of his boots were covered in blood, he needed to clean them. He makes a face at them and drops them onto a mat outside his wardrobe, then pads into the bathroom to shower and generally get his shit together.

He still smelled like Ada.

As he stands in the shower, he wonders how she's doing. If she was alright after her near death fall. He could text her, ask, but that felt like harassment. She was a big girl, she could take care of herself.

Maybe he really was fucking obsessed with her.

"What is this, introspection day?" he grumbles, getting out and towelling off his hair. He wraps a towel around his waist and brushes his teeth, then attempts to tame a bit of the out of control stubble on his face. He was beginning to look like a yeti, so he decides it's time to handle that. Shaving it clean off except for some he'd started wearing as standard over his chin and top lip. He supposed there was a word for it, he had no fucking idea what it was and didn't care. It just went well with his hair.

For a moment, he wonders what he'd look like if he had it dark, instead of his dirty blonde. It'd suit his mood, that's for sure.

Then he laughs. "Bit late for a goth phase," he mumbles. Finishing up in the bathroom with a splash of aftershave and cologne, he heads out to dress. Maybe he's feeling inspired, but he ends up looking far more business than casual today. Actual pants and real shoes, and a shirt and belt. No tie of course, and the leather jacket happens as standard. But he looked a little more like he was going in to the office of a government/military building and less like he was headed to a Nirvana concert.

Kurt Cobain, now he'd been a badass dude.

Leon heads back out to his living room, tucking his shirt in, finding Sherry sitting on the couch with her legs curled up and the TV on.

"What'd I miss?" he asks.

"Actually, you missed a memo from work." Sherry points to her phone on the coffee table. "It was sent to you too."

"Oh?" He frowns, walking over to the kitchen table where his phone sat.

"Small breakthrough. All of the mirrors in all of the buildings murders took place in were cracked. Also, they found some footage of the first one.."

"They did?!" his eyebrows shoot up, leafing through the message.

"Yeah, from a tower block a few streets away, it happened to have a camera on the building. The image is.. pretty far away. But you can see something fly up outside the window and just.. it shatters."

He plays the encrypted file, bringing it closer to watch. Her description is accurate, and his breath holds as he watches the same blurry, almost human, encased in shadowy tar figure rise up outside the front of the building. The bombproof glass shatters in all directions, and the first victim is dragged out by nothing and thrown to his death.

"Jesus.." he murmurs, watching it again.

"Also, I noticed something myself when going through logs in the science divisions last night."

"What?" He looks back to her.

"Remember we found out originally that the first victim had had all that security installed three months ago?"

"Yeah.."

"Three months ago, there was a massive power outage at one of the labs. Like this surge, and then it blew. It took out the lab and the entire street the labs on. It's only mentioned as a power failure in the technicians logs, but I looked in to it and the whole street was reporting outages."

He grinds his teeth together, something he did when he was thinking. "You got the address for that lab?"

"Its under pretty heavy guard, I mean, its high clearance.. I'm not sure we'd get in. But yeah."

He swipes the screen off of his phone and tucks it into his pocket. "Then we pay them a visit."

"You got it." She smiles, "You good to go?"

"All set." he pockets his keys.

Sherry gets up and together they head to his door. He looks over his shoulder at her, intent on opening it up to let her out first. A true gentleman. He opens up the door and Sherry lets out a yelp. He quickly looks, and his eyes go wide.

In front of them, Lizzie stands shivering, clutching her arms to herself.

"Lizzie?" He breathes. She looked pale and frightened, dressed now in white hospital pants that didn't fit her and a loose fitting top. Her hair was soaking wet, she looked like she'd been dragged through freezing water. Leon looks to Sherry. "Get a blanket, one on the back of my armchair."

Sherry goes quickly and Leon ushers the shaking girl inside. Sherry brings the blanket and wraps it around her shoulders.

"What happened?" Leon asks her, guiding her to a chair at his kitchen table. "How did you even find me?"

"I followed you." She admits quietly.

"Are you okay?"

She shakes her head, sitting and still clutching her arms to herself.

"Tell me what happened, sweetheart.. where did you follow me from?" He crouches at her side as Sherry hovers nearby.

Lizzie simply rocks forward, clenching her eyes shut.

"What took you from the hospital, do you know what it is?" He asks.

"I can't.." she trembles, talking through clenched teeth.

"Can't what? Look at me honey.." he reaches out, gently taking her chin to make her look down at him. "Can't what?"

"I can't.. make it stop..." she shudders.


	8. Unravel

**Authors Note:** Lots to take in, bring a coffee and a mop.

* * *

 **I want to forget mistakes they've helped me make**  
 **It's better to be broken than to break**

 **\- Celldweller, "Frozen"**

* * *

Leon was familiar with dealing with traumatized people. You didn't visit as many war zones as he did without finding your own coping mechanisms and becoming the strength for others when they needed it the most. He was good at it – at putting people at ease with a smile and a joke. At diffusing their fear just enough to see them through to safety. It was a skill he'd always seemed to possess, ever since he comforted his Mom after Michael died. She'd been broken in to a thousand pieces and at the tender age of just fifteen, he'd sat with her, held her, focused on the good memories. He'd managed to make her smile in the face of the worst tragedy a parent could experience. Sometimes, it was even at his own expense. He could be in turmoil himself, but he'd become a master over the years of shoving that down, putting it aside, so that he could lift others up and get them through.

He'd soothed a panicked Ashley more than once as they fought through Spain, on numerous occasions she'd become overwhelmed by their situation. But a well placed joke, a calm smile, a careful guiding hand - he'd brought her back to him and delivered her from her fear. He'd been through numerous battles, overseas jobs, covert ops, you name it.. there was always someone you could save, and he took pride in it.

Maybe it was that gentle nature that prompted people to seek him out when they needed someone. He could lay waste to an entire town of salivating monsters by himself, and he could heal you. It was a strange dichotomy to live. Ruthless killer – Gentle guardian. Keeping calm while everybody around you fell apart. Perhaps it was why he could never admit that from time to time, he needed someone too.

How do you let yourself be vulnerable when you've dedicated a life to being everybody else's strength?

Little Lizzie sat shivering at his kitchen table, a fragile, porcelain doll. Her wet hair dampened the oversized hospital shirt she wore and despite the blanket Sherry had draped around her shoulders, she couldn't seem to get control over her chattering teeth or the way she rocked back and forth. Her words rang in Leon's ears, as he crouched there beside her, unsure of what to do. He should call the hospital, he should get her to a doctor. But what use was that if whatever was hunting her just stole her away again. If this thing had the ability to control objects, even people, then what chance did any of them stand at keeping her safe?

"Lizzie.." he tries again, getting through to her so far had been hit and miss. She was terrified. "I don't know what you mean, sweetheart. You have to talk to me, tell me what you need."

"Should I call the hospital?" Sherry asks quietly. No sooner do the words leave her mouth, Lizzie whips her head around to look at her in a wide eyed panic.

"No! I can't go back there."

"Why not? I don't understand. How can I help you?" Leon presses, bringing her attention back to him.

Lizzie scrunches her eyes shut, slowing her rock back and forth, her arms still clutched tightly around herself. "I can't stop it.." she whispers, "nobody can."

Leon narrows his eyes, "do you know what it is?"

She gives a small nod.

"Look at me, Elizabeth.." he reaches out, gently tilting her chin toward him, "fighting the monsters is what I do. I can stop it. Help me stop it."

"You can't stop this one." She whispers, looking him right in the eyes. It's said with such quiet certainty it jarr's something in him.

"What is it?" He asks quietly.

"Angry." The answer is flat, and not what he expected. Navigating this child's shattered nerve was going to be a delicate task.

"Angry at the scientists?" Leon coaxes more answers.

Her answer is a simple nod, the only sound was her chattering teeth.

"What did they do, can you tell me?"

Lizzie looks away from him and up to Sherry, for a moment Leon's worried she's going to say she wants Sherry to leave. That she didn't trust the stranger, although really Leon was a relative one too. Sherry offers her a smile and Leon gives her a small nod.

"You can tell us, you're safe here." Sherry says, matching Leon's gentle tone. "This is what we do."

"Fight the monsters." Lizzie sways, saying it almost dreamily.

"Right."

"But you're one of them.." The tiny blonde looks from the floor up to Sherry's eyes and makes the younger Agent freeze. Lizzie gets to her feet and Leon does the same, his hand hovering near the holstered gun at his hip.

"I'm not a monster." Sherry whispers.

"They made you one." Lizzie steps toward her.

"I'm going to need you to sit back down, sweetheart," Leon warns. Lizzie darts her gaze back to him.

"And you."

"And me what?" He studies her.

"You save people. Like.. an Angel.."

"Not quite," Leon gestures for her to sit back down in the chair. "I make the bad guys go away."

"Watch over them." Lizzie smiles, "Michael with his sword." She makes a motion like she was brandishing a sword then spearing something at her feet.

His heart leaps in to his throat at the mention of his brothers name. "Why do you say that name?"

Lizzie relaxes her spearing stance and looks at him, smiling. "I trust you."

"Okay.." he reaches out, guiding her back to the seat. He flicks a look to Sherry who seemed just as shaken by the girls assessment of them. When she sits back down, she puts her head in her hands, dissolving in to tears.

As she cries, Leon moves past her and over to Sherry, putting his hand on her arm.

"What did she mean?" Sherry asks, creeped out. "She knows about me?"

"She can't. I don't think she's all there." Leon keeps his voice low.

"She knew your brothers name," Sherry whispers.

Leon looks at his feet, gritting his teeth, "coincidence."

"Or she's got some kind of.. psychic.."

"Sherry.."

"Leon!" She argues under her breath, "think about the things you've seen. Why is this hard to consider?"

"Because it's fucking.. crazy. Nobody has proven psychics exist." He debates, quietly.

"And yet they use them, in the military. FBI uses them.." Sherry reminds.

She had a point. There were many, many documented cases of high up government agencies using people called 'Remote Viewers' to visualize the locations of murder victims, terrorist bases and more. The CIA spearheaded a program named Project StarGate, which aimed over the course of 20 years to create a trainable, repeatable, operational and accurate method of 'psychic spying' – or information gathering for the U.S Military and Intelligence agencies. Leon knew this, he'd read about it. He'd read about it and dismissed it as a ridiculous waste of money. But why? For all the things he'd seen and fought, why did this seem like the only impossible?

He swipes his tongue across his lips and puts his hands on his hips, looking back to the sobbing girl.

"Maybe that's why this.. thing.. wants her. It can obviously do shit."

Sherry simply shrugs. They had to get this girl to talk, otherwise they were just stumbling in the dark. Leon sweeps a hand through his hair and turns his attention back to the girl, moving back around to the side of her chair and gently touching her shoulder.

"If you want me to save you, you have to tell me.. what's after you?" He sits down in the chair opposite, dipping his head, getting to her eye level. "Anything, Lizzie. Whatever you know. Tell me."

"It wants them dead," she says through a sniffle, her hands dropping down to rest on the table. Her damp hair hid her face from his.

"Why? Start there.."

"Because of what they did."

"What did they do?"

"They made it."

He draws in a breath, "okay. Do you know how many more are left?"

"Two to go." She says it in almost sing song voice. It sends a little creep crawling up his spine.

Six man project, that narrowed things down a tiny fraction.

"Do you know who?" He asks, glancing to Sherry and gesturing once he has her attention for her to take a note if she brings up a name.

"I can't tell you." She rocks forward.

"Lizzie if you know who they are you have to tell me, we have to stop this." Leon persists.

"You can't."

"I can."

Her whimper made her sound like she was fighting with herself. Between telling him everything and keeping this monsters secrets.

"You said you couldn't make it stop. Which means you want it to, right?" He changes tactic. "You want this over?"

She nods. Still not looking at him.

"Then give me a name. We'll protect them. It ends.."

"I don't care about him." She snaps, "I hope it tears him to shreds." She finally lifts her eyes to Leon and he sits back a bit, those emerald green eyes burned like acid. Before becoming a tranquil lake once again. Filling with tears. "I just don't want it to hurt her."

"Hurt who?"

He carefully reaches a hand out to her, "Lizzie, hurt who? I won't let it happen. Who is she?"

"Do you promise?" She asks.

"I promise, sweetheart I will keep whoever it is safe, and you." It's a big promise to make in the face of a telekinetic monster. He couldn't even believe that thought crossed his mind. The world was getting crazier by the day.

"Holly..." She says quietly.

"What's her second name?" He pushes.

"Holly Davis.. she was kind." Lizzie murmurs.

Leon snaps his fingers in Sherry's direction and Sherry nods, getting out her phone and quickly beginning a search.

"She was one of the scientists?"

"Yes."

Leon leans forward again, reaching his hand up to gently touch her chin. "Was this here, this city?"

A nod.

"They created this thing?"

"Yes." She shivers.

"Why does it want you? How do you know Holly was kind?"

She shakes her head, beginning to rock again, slowly back and forth. Sherry curses across the room and Leon looks over to her questioningly.

"We need to go in to the offices, I can't access that kind of information from this thing." She waves her phone.

Leon nods. "Lizzie, do you trust me?"

She looks up at him again, those big green eyes searching him. "Help me." She whispers.

"I will, darlin. You gotta come with me, okay?" He gets to his feet.

She shakes her head, her hands balling in to fists.

"It's alright," he soothes, "its a safe place. Where even more people can protect you. I can find Holly from there, I can save her."

She studies him. Under the scrutiny of her emerald eyes he holds his own, offering the most comforting smile he can.

"It's what I do."

"I know." The traumatized girl whispers back at him.

Leon takes her hand as she uncurls it from a fist, giving it a small squeeze. Then he stands straight, looking to Sherry. "We'll take my car." He nods.

They cover Elizabeth up with one of Leon's older leather jackets, it hung on her like a bag but it provided a little mental comfort against the cold morning streets outside. She wraps herself in to it like a bug in a cocoon as they get her in to the back of the car. Sherry gets in beside her in the back, and Leon starts it up. The engine growls, his 2011 Dodge Charger was a beast in matte black with an iron stripe over it's hood. He had a thing for muscle cars, he was a simple man. He just needed a roof, some clothes, and the best man toys money could buy. Well what else were you going to do when you had some time off in between risking your life to keep the demons from peoples doors? Quite often, Leon would pick a car or a bike, hit the road and see where the wind took him. He ended up all over the country, just driving, just meeting people. Seeing the beauty of America so he could appreciate what he was fighting and risking his life for.

He was the current proud owner of three American Muscle cars, and two bikes. Polar opposites of each other, his growling Harley Softail and his Ducati 1098S. If he wanted to escape the world, the Ducati was the winner every time. Leon flicks his eyes into the rear view as the girl reacts to the noise of the engine, Sherry comforts her and a smile drifts across his face. Shifting the car into gear he pulls out of the parking lot and on to the street. The DSO offices were in the newly renamed President Benford Memorial building, under the charge of James Hoult. An older man, former military and a good friend of the deceased Adam Benford. Leon found him pleasant enough, a bit stuffy and with strange taste in art work perhaps, but he was one of the good ones. Reliable, like a guard dog for the country.

The tower sat on the other side of the city to where Leon lived, he tried to distance himself from work as much as he could on his down time, but still stay within the city. He wasn't a huge fan of Washington D.C. - Honestly he wasn't a huge fan of cities in general. They were dangerous places to be, and high up on the list of targets when it came to the numerous terrorist groups springing up around the globe.

He could swear, these people were like a virus in themselves. Always some new mutation appearing on the radar, some new collective with a new flimsy set of reasons as to why they thought they should either be in charge of the world, or ending it. Bio Weapons were big business, black market money talked real loud. Someone was always creating the next big thing, the next cross breed, the next profitable virus. It made Leon's skin crawl, how someone could look at life and see it in terms of dollar signs and expendable people – instead of the precious thing it was. Time here was short, you got one go at it. Why spend it trying to end the time of others?

Leon would never, ever understand it. He'd go to his grave fighting it.

Whatever these scientists had dreamed up in their lab, it was hunting them. In some ways, it almost felt like karma. You reap what you sow. But what did this turn its attention to once it's primary targets were down? Bio Weapons had a purpose and if they didn't they were almost more dangerous than when they did. Who knows what it would decide to take out next. What Leon couldn't figure out, was Elizabeths connection to it. She knew the scientists, she hated one quite clearly – she thought fondly of another. Family? Friends?

He chews the side of his tongue, switching his gaze from the road to the rear view as he stops at lights. If she really was psychic, had they tortured her too? Was she an experiment? It would explain the scars.

Leon props his elbow on the window and rubs his temple with his fingers, waiting for that light to change.

He knew the drive like the back of his hand, but this morning traffic was brutal.

As they near the street the fortress of a building stood on, he notices a shift in atmosphere in the car. It's palpable, makes the hairs on his arms stand on end. Goosebumps rise on his skin. Her breathing quickened and she moved to the window, peering out of it.

"Lizzie, you alright?" He asks calmly, hitting his indicator and making a turn on to the street.

Sherry reaches out, touching her back in an attempt to draw her attention.

"Don't stop." Lizzie whimpers as Leon pulls up in the Reserved parking spots at the front of the building.

"It's alright honey, this is where we have to be, it's going to be okay."

She looks at him, trembling.

Leon gets out of the car and moves around to the passenger side, opening up her door at the back and holding out his hand to her.

"Where are we going?" she asks in a small voice, taking his outstretched palm.

"This is where I work."

She steps out of the car and looks up at the towering black glass building at the end of a paved area sporting a fountain, benches, and a series of plaques signifying the organizations that were based under this roof. He feels her grip tighten, and as he makes to start walking toward the building, she pulls back. Shaking her head.

"No..."

He looks back at her.

"No!.."

"What's the matter?" Sherry asks, arriving at her side.

"Not here!"

"It's alright.." Leon soothes, "it's going to be fine."

"NOT HERE!" She yells, startling them both as she tries to wrench her hand from his.

"Lizzie!" He tries his best, but she was freaking out. And as he gives her one last gentle coax, she wrenches her hand from his, grabbing her head and screaming those two words again, so loud it was like a piercing stab to the ears. He winces, and as he does, glass shatters in the windows of his car, and all the cars around them.

It's shocking, people on the street stopping and staring, whispers of worry quickly spreading. The world was on edge, and strange behaviour anywhere quickly sent people into a panic. Leon lowers his hands from his ears in time to see her bolt away. Racing down the street like the devils on her tail. There was no time to think about the shattered glass, or his broken windows. He takes off after her, his legs were longer and his cardio better than most. She breaks off of the street two blocks down and chases down an alleyway. He vaults a dumpster and makes up some ground. "Lizzie wait!"

She whips her head around, looking over her shoulder at him, and it causes her to lose her footing. Crashing to the ground hard. He's a few steps behind and ends up at her side, crouching down next to her as she shivers and cries. She looks up at him like he was attacking her, and it sends a shot to his heart. He'd never had a woman look at him like that, ever. His hands come up, like he was surrendering. She'd cut her chin in the fall.

"Whoa hey, what is it? Why'd you run?"

"You're one of THEM!" She rolls on to her side and starts scrabbling to get up.

"I'm not! I'm not going to hurt you! Please.. talk to me!" He reaches out to her.

She ends up on her ass, backing away from him inch by inch, tears streaking down along her face.

"Lizzie.." he says calmly, "look at me. You can see me, right?" he holds her gaze. "I mean really.. see me."

She simply stares.

"I'm the good guy, I promise. You can – sense – that, right?" His heart was pounding, and not from the run. The goosebumps still on his arms, the strangest feeling.  
Her breathing steadies, the acid fire in her terrified eyes softening. He could swear they changed tone. Reverting to a tranquil emerald ocean. She was looking right through him, staring in to him like he'd never felt anyone do before. Reading him.

"Don't make me go back there," she whispers.

"I won't." He nods. "We'll think of something else. I think I know someone that can help." He nods cautiously.

As he helps her up, his minds racing. Scarier still, he's wondering if she can hear every word. If she could, she doesn't say anything. He promises her they'll go back to the car and just return to his place, he had some calls to make. But of course, there's a commotion once he's there, people wanting to know what happened to their windows. Of course, there was nobody that could offer an explanation and Leon insists he's as mystified as everybody else. Clearing the glass shards from the seats he gets her safely tucked away and returns his attention to Sherry.

"Find out everything you can on Holly. If you find her details, send them to me." He instructs, "we need to get her in to our protection, and we _**really**_ need to talk to her."

"I'm on it," Sherry peers past him to the girl in the back of his glass windowless car. "Is she.. what is she?"

"I think they did something to her. I think you were right.." He nods, "I think we're also way out of our depth, and that's not a place I like being for long. Get me **everything**."

"She's terrified of this place," she whispers.

Leon eyes the building looming over them.

"Yeah. I wanna know why." He mutters.

* * *

It's a breezy drive home, and one of the first calls he makes might not be the most important but it would keep a very expensive car from being stolen. He gets someone over to pick it up and take it away so the windows can be fixed. By the time that's taken care of, Lizzie's asleep on his couch. She looked so peaceful like that, her now dry hair draped in blonde waves around her shoulders and his coat shrouded her like a blanket. Regardless, he picks up the blanket they'd left behind on the back of his kitchen table chair and carefully rests it over her. Then he heads in to his bedroom, pulling the door up and getting his phone from the inner pocket of his jacket. He scrolls through to a number and lifts it to his ear, waiting.

"Leon!" The cheerful tone of the brightest mind and best scientist he knew, Rebecca Chambers answers.

"Hey Becca," he sits down on the edge of his bed and rubs his forehead with his free hand. The last time he'd seen Rebecca felt like a lifetime ago now, but really was just a few days. She'd been the quietest at his so-called intervention.

"How are you? I'm so sorry about the other day.." Her bright, cheerful tone dims a little.

"Don't be." He shakes his head, closing his eyes, "Claire had a point. I'm sorry I flipped the fuck out."

There's silence, then a small laugh. "Did Leon Kennedy just apologize?"

A tiny smile flickers over his face. "Should probably declare a national holiday, huh. It wasn't you I was pissed at."

"Honestly I thought it was a bad idea anyway, but Claire was so.. insistent." Rebecca sighs. "I should have just listened to my gut."

"Claire's just worried I'm gonna drink myself to liver failure." He half-heartedly jokes.

"Well, I'll start working on a cure," she returns the lame joke and they both laugh limply.

"Look, I need your help with something. Are you still in town?" He drags the subject away from his alcohol problems.

"Yes, I'm working at the Biotech Institute here for the next few months before moving out to Chicago." She explains, "still working on those samples that came back from Jake Muller."

"Great, think you got time for a couple of visitors, and maybe a new set of problems?" He asks cautiously.

"What happened?"

He frowns. "How much do you know about Project Stargate?" He asks.

"The.. remote viewing experiment?"

"Yeah."

"I'm not an expert, there's been some really interesting investigations in to psychic ability though, especially in the last three years. A renewed interest, I guess."

He arches an eyebrow. "Really?"

"Well, what would be better than being able to see your enemy's next move without having to be anywhere near them? The Governments been trying to harness that power for years. Since the first world war even."

Leon draws in a deep breath. "Well, I think they're close." He says quietly.

"What do you mean?"

"I think one of their test subjects is sleeping on my couch, and is related to those scientist murders somehow."

"Holy crap."

He chuckles, nodding. "My thoughts exactly. I'm outta my depth here, Becca. This is not my area. I fight the undead and the next big creature feature."

"Bring them in." Rebecca tells him.

"Be there in a couple hours." He agrees. "And Rebecca?"

"Yeah?"

"I think whatever is doing it can do shit with its mind. I got some things to show you."

"Bring it all." She says confidently.

Leon hangs up, dropping his phone in to his lap and propping his elbows on his knees. For a moment, he rubs the heels of his palms against his eyes, then runs his hands through his hair. Bringing them back down in front of him, he holds them out.

They were trembling. Not out of fear..

He was fucking withdrawing. Almost four whole days without a drink, his body was beginning to react. This was a seriously, seriously bad time. He gets to his feet and goes through to his bathroom, splashing water on his face and pulling his shit together. He shakes his hands off, rubbing them together and then cracking his knuckles. Maybe caffeine would help. With that in mind he heads through to his kitchen and puts on some coffee, leaning against the sink as it brews.

"Feels like ants under your skin.." her quiet voice floats over to him. He frowns, tucking his hands under his arms, forearms crossed across his chest.

"Hm?"

"I can feel them." Lizzie's voice drifts, a gentle, calm little thing now. She follows the words with a yawn and as he watches her, she closes her eyes again and seems to go back to sleep.

He pours his coffee, lost in thought. Her scream had broken glass. Was it the scream, or was it her mind? Was her terror at being dragged in to that building enough to shatter the windows of every car around her? As he blows steam off the top of his mug, the fact that mirrors were cracked at every crime scene creeps through his head like an unwelcome, shadowy figure. But there was nothing dark or threatening about this kid, nothing but fear. She triggered that want to protect in him so strongly it was overwhelming.

His phone beeps. He checks it with his free hand.

Sherry had found Dr Holly Davis. A child psychologist and behaviourist, as well as a paediatrician. Some high honors for a relatively young woman. Leon reads over her profile, it read like a list of awards and the amount of letters she had after her name bordered on ridiculous. He presses his thumb down on Sherry's number and speaks with her quickly.

"I'm taking Lizzie to see Rebecca, see if we can't figure out what's going on. I want you to bring in Holly Davis. Bring her to me if you have to.. just.. we need to speak with her. She might be the key to unlocking this whole thing." He speaks quietly, trying not to wake his sleeping guest.

"I'm on it, I already have her address." Sherry confirms.

"Alright, be careful kiddo." For a moment, he wishes Chris was still on the case. The muscle to keep Sherry safe would be a huge comfort. No matter how good he was, Leon couldn't physically be in two places at once.

They say their goodbyes and he hangs up. As he does, he feels this creeping sensation up the back of his neck, like all the little hairs were standing on end. It freezes him to the spot, clutching his phone in a vice tight grip. His breathing quickens, he felt the cold at his back. Without turning around, he flicks his eyes to the side, where he can see Lizzie still sound asleep on the couch. His free hand hovers over his holstered gun, and in a breath he has it drawn and he turns in one fluid, swift motion.

The gun is swiped from his hand with an ease he didn't think possible. He never dropped that thing. He's confronted by the towering form of a figure shrouded in black. It was like ink floating in water. It swirled around the edges of it's almost human form, with no clear lines, like an ink blot. A living, breathing, Rorschach test, spread out in front of him. It was at least 8 feet tall, and he could feel it's breath from a mouth he couldn't see. Could feel eyes staring in to him, though he couldn't make them out. He felt like the child in Jurassic Park, as the T Rex blew hot air over him and threatened to devour him whole. It rumbled – growled – hung there mere feet away.

"What are you?" He asks in a whisper.

It moves closer and he grits his teeth. If he struck this thing, would it even hit? It didn't look solid. The inky swirling smoke made it seem ethereal.

"We're going to stop you, you can't have her.." He warns it.

It simply turns away, the shimmering black shape moving from him and toward Lizzie on the couch. Leon dives for his gun, snatching it from the floor and rolling to one knee, he takes aim.

The last thing he remembers is its sickening roar, as he's engulfed in darkness.

* * *

 **Second Note:** In case you're wondering, Project Stargate is real, and quite fascinating!


	9. Little Nightmares

**Authors Note:** Much like the 'Archangel' chapter in the last story, this is a bit of an odd one. A moment of introspection, a look at Leons soul as it is. Answers are coming - soon. And to those that have sent in Reviews and PM's with guesses as to what it is - nobody's got it. Yet.

Part 1 is almost done. Yeah, you heard me. Onward!

* * *

 **Did you hear the one about heaven? There's a guy that's running the sky. I heard his daddy gave us all seven; when we die we might be surprised.  
** **First you lost your angels, then you lost your crown. Give up your holy crusade - what was lost has just been found.  
** **Did you hear the one about zombies? Three days dead, then it's back to life.  
** **He runs it all with rigid authority; you better make sure that you're living in line.**

 **\- Filter**

* * *

It was like falling in to the dark, nothing but an abyss beneath. An endless, black, sucking void that swallowed Leon whole, stole him from the light. Moving in tar without breath. A sinking. Is this what death felt like?

He wasn't dying, his heart was thundering too hard to be dying. It's all he can hear and all he can feel, that swift pounding in his chest as midnight itself embraces him. Then it's like something tears in the fabric, a flash of light, blinding and harsh and cold. Leon falls to his hands and knees, gasping for air, a familiar feeling burning in his chest. He lifts a hand to his mouth, spitting out blood and staring at it in his palm. The world paints like a watercolor around him, swirling, taking shape. Muddy ground beneath him, the smell of damp and fire and putrid death filling his nose. He was dressed for war, the cold metal of his Punisher gun pressed against his fingers, sinking in to the mud. He blinks, eyes adjusting.

Leon lifts his head and a panic he'd never felt before grips his heart, as his eyes fall upon the insignia etched on the door of a church.

Not again.

"Detrás de ti, imbécil!" The gruff male voice yells behind him and his entire body reacts, grabbing his gun, turning in the mud and pushing himself backward until his back hit the cold stone wall of the church. He was surrounded. The villagers were filthy, covered in sweat and dirt and grime, they stank to high heaven, carried torches and pitchforks. Screamed at him – American imbecile, invading their town. He grits his teeth, his aim swift. He fires and the villager closest to him loses his head. A perfect shot. Another round, an ugly woman's head explodes. He dodges an axe, rolling to his side, grabbing it he moves in a fluid motion to his knee and hurls the axe back, it hits another right between the eyes, taking it to it's knees.

He couldn't think. He just reacted. Firing shots, he takes out knees, he shoots one through the eye. Empty. He dodges another thrown axe and gets to his feet. Nowhere to go, they were everywhere. He drops the clip from his gun and slams in another, teeth clenched. One, two, three.. ten. He hooks his foot under an axe at his feet and flips it up, catching it with his left hand and surging forward to bury it in another woman's skull. The rage in his warcry yell as he drives the axe through bone and skin should be a warning to any normal human, but not to these – things. Relentless, foul, stinking. Their red eyes sought him out from every corner. He was hunted. He was the hunter.

Ammo spent, he unsheaths his combat knife, brandishing both it and the axe. He steels his nerve and he goes to war.

He fights for his life.

He fights for hers.

"LEON! HELP!"

"I'm coming, Ashley!" He tries to call back to her, surging forward through this mass of Plaga infected bodies to try and get to her. They grab and claw, spit and yell, he understands every word of their demented muttering and hollering. He kicks, he slashes, he buries that axe between the eyes of anything that moves. Then that awful screech sound hits his ears, the parasite bursts from the bloody stump of a neck beside him and towers over him. He drives his knife in to its squirming, bulbous head, disgusting yellow-green slime spilling from it amidst the blood and screaming.

He battles his way through the bodies and falls to his knees in the puddle of filth at the foot of a stake surrounded by fire. She screams as she burns, hanging above him on a hook. Too late. You failed her. You didn't save the girl.

As he watches Ashley disappear in flame, his chest heaves in pain. It was growing inside him, he could feel it.

"I can't.. not again.." he rasps through a breath of agony, and then he's sinking..

Falling back into that abyss of black, darkness wraps him up in relief and horror. A comforting, cold embrace.

Midnight releases him. The light returns. Sun blinding. He holds a hand up to shield against its rays and the sound of a chopper hovering above replaces the echoes of those villagers. It was hot, deathly so. The kind of hot that if you stayed out in it too long your skin began to peel. The twin blades kick up sand and dust as his extraction team drop lines down to him.

Then there's a rush of sound, the unmistakable woosh of a rocket passing overhead.

He ducks for cover, his arms over his head as the chopper above explodes, a thunderous rain of burning fuel and torn apart metal. The body of a friend and colleague lands with a wet, broken splat just feet from him. He can smell the seared flesh. Lifeless eyes stare back at him, frozen in time and torment. Egypt. Stranded in the desert, defending a sample so deadly that if it got in to the wrong hands it could mean the end of everything. He was the most wanted man in the country, at least that was how it felt.

You survived this one.

Right?

He swipes the fire catching on the leg of his desert camo and claws to his feet. Dehydrated, lost, no hope. He slips back in to the dark and it's welcome. A sweet relief, cold, soothing his burning skin as he falls and falls deeper in to the void. Disoriented.

"Leon.."

Light slowly returns, the world building around him, piece by piece like paint by numbers. He held her in his arms at last, tasted the cherry balm on her lips. The softness of her mane of red hair slipping through his fingers as they kiss away the pain of the memories.

They fall together on to expensive sheets, the hotel bed cradling new lovers as they discover one another. She's hesitant. He's gentle.

So very gentle. Because she seemed so very nervous. She trembled under him as he undressed her. He asks her if she's sure a hundred times. She always says yes. Then she says she's sorry and he doesn't understand, resting his palm against her cheek, skin to skin at last. After all these years. He searches her eyes and she admits in a whisper that she's never done this before. For all the blistering courage and iron will, for the sheer fucking force of nature Claire Redfield was, at the age of 24 she'd never been with a man. Turned out, there were things that daunted her more than zombies or lab grown monstrosities.

He kisses her everywhere. Her lips, her neck, her cheeks and forehead. He smooths his hands along her arms and lifts them above her head, telling her to lie back and relax. To close her eyes. Just to feel. Feel what he was doing.

He loves every part of her, turning her trembles of fear in to little shivers of desire. His fingertips brush the tight bundle of nerves between her legs and she jerks away from the sensation. Mewing, thighs shaking. He persists. So gentle. Getting her used to the touch, kissing the perfect slope of her stomach, breathing her in. He wanted her to feel like the most beautiful creature on earth. Wanted to worship her, like she should be.

Her hands bunch the bed sheets as he brings her to her peak with his hand and his mouth. She's the cutest thing. Cursing, cheeks and chest flushed with pleasure. He licks her from his lips and returns to hers, she pulls him to her, kissing him hard.

"Are you sure?" he checks again in a whispered breath.

She searches his eyes. She trusts him. She nods.

For a warrior, he'd never done anything more delicately in his life. Watching her face for the merest suggestion that she wasn't okay. As he carefully pushes inside her the look of discomfort on her face stops him in his tracks and he holds where he is, kissing her, bringing her back to him and the moment. He whispers to her to relax, she wraps her arms around his neck, holding on to him as he rocks his hips carefully. When he's buried inside her, he kisses her brow. She shivers. She felt like heaven, gripping him in a hot, wet silk vice. She was amazing.

He was slow. Rhythmic. Gentle. Letting her get used to the feel and size of him. In time, she begins to move with him. Her hands begin to roam. Grab. Clutch at him. Her ankles hook behind his thighs and encourage him on. Those natural, feral instincts kicking in. Her body wanted him, was made to receive him. They move together, an instinctive dance as old as time.

The sound of their bodies working as one, skin meeting skin. He'd never forget it.

Slow and tender. Harder. Faster. He unravels her and she makes the sweetest sobbing sound against his neck as she comes. He feels her. Her hand tangled in his hair, the other gripping his ass. He was so lost in Claire Redfield, he wanted her to remember this forever. The best it could possibly have been.

He stalls himself.

He wants to hold on. But her body was too inviting, too encouraging. Somewhere, in his muddled, messed up, trying not to lose his grip brain – Ada.

As he buries himself and crumbles like sand, he calls her Ada.

He falls back in to the darkness as she curses at him, slapping him away. The worst mistake he ever made. This time the grip of the void is most welcome. He slips from the memory, leaving it an echo. Fingers of midnight pulling him back down. Nothing like falling in to the abyss when you feel like you deserve it. He lets it take him without a fight. But soon it spits him out, back in to another bleeding memory.

Running. Running as the mist of the virus spreads after them. Chasing them through the streets. His lungs were on fire, behind them the whole city was turning. A hoard of infected reaching for them, wanting them to be a part of their club. They crash through buildings, jump off of stairwells, a parkour run from hell and in to a street littered with cars and things that wanted them dead.

They fight. Shoot. Sweat. Blood everywhere. He grabs her hand and pulls.

"This way!" They run and run. They vault cars, scramble over hoods. Their extraction in the distance. Something falls from the sky and fire and searing heat explodes around them. He looks back over his shoulder for Helena. The fear in her eyes he'd never forget. But there was no time for fear, no time to think. No time to stop and take in what was happening. You moved or you died. They run until their thighs burn, until every muscle feels like it's on the verge of collapse.

Hood to hood. Jump. Climb. Helicopter.

The last scrap of energy in his body and he launches himself, grabbing the metal rail as the chopper rises higher. One has his foot. He shoots it away, he gets his grip. Helena helps him in to their escaping sanctuary. It doesn't last for long. Good thing he can fly one of these. Using skill and a prayer, he gets them through the maze of buildings. Until the chopper gasps it last and there's no choice but to ditch and fall and hope. How many prayers did you get before you used them all?

They crash. They live.

Barely.

So exhausted. But it's not over. He'd kill for a drink. Instead he kills to survive. Picking up guns of fallen soldiers, relying on what ammo they could find and salvage from bodies. Sometimes staying alive was like a DIY TV show, you improvised. It's fucking Tool Time on crack.

There's only a moment, stolen in the shadows. Fallen against a cold wall, the sounds of the end ringing out all around them. They breathe, they reload, they inventory. They drink from a soda can stolen from a small decimated store. Sugar is good. He didn't remember the last time he ate, maybe it was on the plane in to this mess. Reloaded. Sweating. Fire burned everywhere. They hunt down Simmons.

They find him. They fight for their lives. As the giant, roaring mutation towers overhead his Angel arrives. Simmons reaches for her, swiping Ada out of the sky and crashing her to the ground. Leon watches in horror as she burns in a twisted wreck of metal and fire and the stink of aviation fuel. Simmons laughs.

No.

That's not how this went.

He falls.

He falls through the dark and slips in to water and ice, a claw wrapped around his foot and dragging him down. It was so heavy, the water so cold. The kind of cold that ripped your breath away from you, shocked your body in to not knowing how to react. Leon didn't know how to not react, his will to survive and to fight beyond that of the average person. He holds his breath, he finds his knife against the weight of the water. He slashes at the arm of the beast pulling him further in to the murky depths. Blood swirls up in an inky mass. It stings his skin. Whoever created Hunters with acid blood needed to die. He shakes it free, he turns his face to the light at the surface and he swims as hard as he could.

Please don't let there be sharks.

He breaks the surface with a gasp of air, coughing, spluttering out water. His hair clings to his face, his own blood starts pouring again from a wound to his temple. The freight ship was sinking and if he didn't get out of the water he was dead anyway, either the cold would kill him or the suction of the ship sinking under the surface would drag him down.

Out of time. Out of options. He swims to nothing more than a cracked piece of iceberg, stabbing his knife in to it, using it to haul himself out of the water and on to its slippery back. He was shivering so hard it was tough to form thoughts. He collapses, looking up at the silver moon and his breath rising in smoky wisps as his hand fumbles for the flare gun he'd salvaged before the ship went to shit.

So cold.

His fingers were numb.

He manages. Holding the gun up, he fires the sparkling gold flare and closes his eyes.

Everything hurt.

Everything.

"Leon?! Leon! Can you hear me?"

Out of the darkness, the world bleeds back to the present. His eyelids flutter, the dark grip of the void releasing him and letting him return to consciousness. He blinks, an early evening sunbeam warming his face in a dimming golden glow as he lay on the floor of his apartment on his back. His gun to his side, discarded on the floor. His head thumping worse than any hangover he'd ever experienced.

Over him, Rebecca Chambers kneels, a glass of water poised to throw over his face.

"Oh thank God. There you are. I was about to call an ambulance," she sounded so relieved. His ears were ringing a bit. He licks his lips and narrows his eyes, taking her in for a moment. Taking in what had just happened – the last thing he remembered was the enraged roar of that shadow as he aimed his gun at it. But he wasn't dead. He wasn't hurt. It had simply stolen his consciousness. Turned him off like you'd turn out a light and injected him with nightmares. He'd crumbled to the floor and here he lay, echoes of memories twisted and mixed up, not quite the memories they were, replaying in his head.

There's nothing to be said for reliving your nightmares, especially not when they actually happened. Or at least, happened in part. His brain had changed pieces here and there, turned worst case in to even worse case. Why was that?

"Rebecca?" he murmurs. A dumb thing to say, he knew it was her, but he still felt foggy and weird. Like his body wasn't his own just yet, he needed returning to it. Was this how the police and staff and patients in the hospital had felt after it had blanked out their memories for them? Nobody saw it or Lizzie leave, everybody had 'headaches'. He sympathised fully.

Carefully, Leon experiments with moving limbs. Getting his elbows underneath him and then pushing himself to sit up. Rebecca hands him the glass of water and he takes it, drinking. Tap water, gross. But it quenches the dryness in his mouth and throat.

"What happened?" She asks. "You didn't show up."

He frowns, "what time is it?"

"Um, almost seven." She glances at her watch. His eyebrows shoot up in to his hairline. It had been almost 11am when he'd spoken to Rebecca, he'd promised to be there by two. Four hours late had prompted her in to paying him a visit when he didn't answer his calls.

"How did you get in?"

"The door was open. Are you alright?" She asks.

"It was.. it was here.." he scratches the back of his head, then it's like the light turns on in his brain. "Fuck! Where's Lizzie?" He pushes himself to his feet, setting the water down. He was wobbly and it gives Rebecca cause for concern, she'd never seen Leon uneasy on his feet even when he was drunk. He had the balance and co-ordination of a ninja cat.

"I think you should sit down.." she gestures as he looks around his apartment like a dazed, frustrated madman. "There's nobody here. Let me make you some coffee, you can explain what the hell is going on."

She instructs him, and in his dazed state he can do nothing but agree.

He'd failed her. It had taken her. He couldn't fight this thing.

The bitterest pill Leon Kennedy had ever swallowed.

He flops in to a chair at his kitchen table and takes the mug of coffee as Rebecca hands it to him. Then she rests her palm against his forehead and he looks at her in confusion.

"Just checking, you're acting really weird. Thought you might have a fever," she explains, picking up her own mug and taking a seat opposite him.

"I'm not sick." He shakes his head, "that thing just.."

"What thing?" Rebecca interrupts him, then holds up a hand, stopping him. "Start at the beginning. Tell me everything." She simplifies things.

Leon takes a sip of the hot coffee, and he does as she asks. Starting where the murders did, explaining that he'd been put on the case to keep him busy in the wake of China. They'd given him a couple of months off to rest and recover and then sent him to lead a team to intercept a ship crossing waters it was not supposed to, using a device meant to cloak its location. It had been discovered, it needed identifying and correcting.

It had been a complete and total clusterfuck. A shipment of black market bio weapons broken out, a crew torn apart. Leon had had to fix the communications systems finding various parts needed to do so, in the meantime, a firefight between acid bleeding monsters and soldiers broke out and a hole was torn in the ships side. It sank. Along with its cargo, along with it's monsters. Leon had gotten a message out but had been in the middle of a battle when the ship went down. In the water with a crossbred Hunter's claw through his boot, he'd barely survived.

Again.

So they gave him another dose of time off and then put him on a 'simple' murder investigation. Government scientists being taken out by a suspected BOW. And here he was. Out of his depth in a different kind of ice water.

"How do you fight something that you can't.. touch?" He asks, feeling a little more human now that he'd had half a mug of coffee. "It can hit me, it knocked my gun out of my hand. But I fired two shots at it the other night and nothing, it was like it went straight through it. How do you fight something that can just switch you out like a light?" He snaps his fingers.

Rebecca takes a deep breath, clutching her own mug. Leon could tell by the look on her face that she had no idea either.

He felt an anger rising inside him. In the riptide of those memories still fresh in his mind, a bitterness settles in. These fucking scientists, meddling. People were dying from disease, from Cancer, from things they hadn't found a single goddamn answer to and yet they were able to create an endless conveyor belt of bullshit. Lickers and Tyrants, Hunters and the Nemesis. Mutated giants and a thousand variations on all the old classics. Mix a little of this, add a little of that, why not throw in some parasites and they could have one big fucking end of the world party. His knuckles whiten as he grips that mug in his hand so tightly he might crack ceramic.

"Honestly, I think this scientist is the best bet." Rebecca speaks up, interrupting him before he can crush his coffee mug with his bare hand. "She has to know something, without meeting Lizzie I can't do much more than offer theories as to what it is."

"What do you think it is?" he asks, searching her for answers.

"It sounds like.. energy." She says slowly. "Pure energy, harnessed. But I'm just spitballing." She shrugs, looking back to him. "You ever watch those ghost shows where some idiot with a night vision camera goes around a haunted house?"

Leon narrows his eyes at her. "I avoid that shit like the plague." He says flatly.

"Wise. But.. in it they often mention negative energy. There's some science backing that up. In places where horrific things have happened, it can cause pockets of readable energy. Fluctuations in temperature, actual, readable phenomena." She explains. "Now in these ghost shows they say that energy can manifest."

Leon blinks. "I refuse to believe I'm fighting Casper." He deadpans.

Rebecca pulls a face. "You asked for a theory. That's the best I have. Unless it's some kind of.. experiment gone wrong? A person that they've.. changed in to this? Maybe it's even a projection! If it's an extension of Project Stargate then they were looking in to people being able to 'project' themselves to certain locations. Remote viewing. To see.." She taps her nails against her mug. "But that wouldn't involve them taking a form."

Leon pushes his aside and gets to his feet, his brain hurt.

"Where are you going?" She asks.

"To call the Ghostbusters." He huffs. In reality, he was going to piss. Which he takes care of and emerges with his phone in his hand.

Rebecca watches him as he calls Sherry, asking her if she's located Holly yet. There's nothing but bad news, as according to neighbors she hadn't been home in days. Wherever she was, she was on the run. Well, wouldn't you be if you knew the Devil was coming to collect?

"Are you sure you're alright?" Rebecca asks him as he hangs up and sits down on his couch. He drops his phone down on to the coffee table and wraps his hands behind his head, closing his eyes. Rebecca bites her lip, then gets up, crossing the room to him and sitting down cautiously at his side.

"You don't look well."

"I'm so fucking tired, Becca.." he says quietly. Admitting something he'd never said out loud to anybody before.

"You haven't been sleeping?"

"I mean I'm _**tired**_." He emphasizes, not looking up, the pressure on the back of his head felt good and it stretched his battleworn neck. "What am I even fighting against here? A creature that wants dead the people that made it? A bunch of scientists – one of which was in to torturing girls for sexual kicks – create a monster in a lab and it wants them dead. Doesn't that just feel like karma?" He asks.

Rebecca's quiet, staring at him.

"It had the opportunity to kill.. someone I was working with.. and it didn't take it. In fact it saved her." He chooses his words carefully. "It could have killed me, all it did was give me a trip through my nightmares and a headache." He finally drops his hands and tilts his head, looking at her sideways. "It could have killed half the people in the hospital it took Lizzie from. It didn't."

"What are you saying?" She asks.

"I don't know." he shakes his head, "I don't know what I'm saying. I can't let it kill this Doctor, and there's another one before her I don't know the name of. I can't stand by and let people die. But I don't know if I can fight it either. What am I even fighting for?"

"Leon.." Rebecca frowns.

"I don't know any more." He murmurs, "After Simmons.. I don't know. It's like an endless loop."

He trails off and looks down at his hands, bringing them together and lacing his fingers.

"You fight because that's who you are," Rebecca says quietly, resting a hand on his back. He lets out the weakest laugh, slowly nodding.

"Yeah." he used to think the same thing, but lately he was starting to question everything. It was a disconcerting feeling.

"You're a good man. And you're an amazing Agent. And you'll figure this out." She says positively.

"And then what, Bec?" He looks at her and hitches a shoulder. "Wait for the next doomsday? A new set of near death memories in my head?"

Rebecca gives him a sad half smile and a small nod. "If we don't, who will?"

It strikes home, and he looks down at his hands again. She was right. This what was what he was – he'd sworn years ago, on his brothers memory, that he'd die trying to keep other families from ever having to experience the same pain theirs had. That he'd protect with all he was. It re-ignites the fading flame inside him.

For now.

* * *

He's in bed, not getting any sleep. Just lying there and staring at the shadows on his ceiling, when the call comes. He closes his eyes, knowing what he was about to hear but willing himself to get up and answer it anyway. He sits up and leans over, grabbing the glowing device from his bedside table and swiping his thumb over the 'Accept' button. He rubs his temple with his other hand as they deliver him the details.

Victim number five. A Dr Adam Bates. A Bio chemist and geneticist. They had the full set, and he was willing to bet even with the names of all six of the team that had created this beast, they still wouldn't be able to access the necessary files on the project, because of red tape. Because the Government protected those in a hierarchy. If you had enough money and knew the right people, you could get away with anything. Especially – Leon considers – if it was the Government itself that was trying to create this thing.

Who was going to own up to it? Was Leon just there to give the appearance that they were doing something? That they were trying to correct and catch their mistake? As he dresses, these thoughts run through his head. He pulls on a white shirt and black pants, his usual leather jacket. A stick of gum in his mouth.

Umbrella. A name he hadn't managed to decipher on a hospital tag. The seal of Lilith. Lizzie and her ability to break glass with her mind. Six scientists, one of them a pervert, one of them nice.

And the shadow.

"You know what this all adds up to?" Leon asks Sherry through a chew of his gum as they stand before the hung and scorched corpse of Scientist number five.

"What?" She asks, with a cloth over her mouth and nose, guarding against the horrific smell of roasting flesh.

"I should have been a Pizza boy." He answers, looking back at the hanging body.


	10. Monsters

**Authors Note:** Disturbing stuff ahead. Don't read if easily upset. Also.. lots of talking. But answers lie within.. and a battle of a different kind for Leon lies ahead.

Jump to no conclusions.

* * *

 **And as your will is bent and broken**  
 **And every vision has been cast into the wind**  
 **As your courage crashes down before your eyes**  
 **Don't lay down and die**

 **Cause I see in you**

 **More than you'll ever know**  
 **And I ask you, Why**  
 **You question the strength inside?**  
 **And you need to know**  
 **How it feels to be alive**

 **\- Alter Bridge**

* * *

The body of Dr Adam Bates hung from the rafters of a derelict church, like something out of a gothic horror movie. The shadow had wanted this one to suffer, as though the rest of it's victims hadn't been put through enough torture. The death was equal parts simple, and barbaric. It had tied the man with chain by his wrists – not his neck – ensuring he wouldn't choke to death before he got to feel every second of his penance. Beneath him, simply a fire. But the fire didn't rise high enough for it to catch him with it's flame. Instead, he began to roast from the heat radiating off of it. Eventually, once skin and fat blistered and melted away enough from his legs and feet, he had begun to burn. It would have taken a while, a few hours. It was terrifying how long somebody could stay alive while on fire, it didn't really bear thinking about. For all the ways to go in the world, fire was perhaps the only one that Leon really feared, because there was nothing quick about it. All you could do was hope you passed out from the pain, everything else was torture.

The shadow had demanded retribution and he'd paid in full.

It left Leon with various chills running the length of his spine. How could this creature be both merciful, and terrible? For those on it's list it had no conscience, just an unstoppable desire for suffering and penance. For those that weren't? It saved. It neutralized. It didn't harm.

Was that how the terrorists he fought saw him? Was he the unstoppable nemesis of those that sought to end the world? It's a thought that makes him pause. Was there any true good in the world? After all, good and evil in the end was all a matter of perspective. Even the most evil of people thought that they were in the right.

Leon crouches down at the edge of the now doused fire, brushing cinders and damp ashes aside with a gloved hand. For a while he'd thought there was no symbol, but he finds it, etched in to the wooden floor underneath the remains of broken chairs used to build the method of this man's demise. He stares at it, unmoving, then lifts his gaze to the body hanging above. There was nothing to salvage from this one, no clues, no evidence, all of it burned away.

It felt futile. Not a feeling he was used to, but with red tape working against them and only one – missing – target left, he had no idea how they were supposed to save this woman. Whatever it was they had created, science had this time outdone itself. An unstoppable, unkillable death machine. Congratulations.

"I hope you found what you were looking for.." he murmurs to the scorched body, rising to his feet. He turns a little to Chief 'Not paid enough for this shit' and gives him a tight nod. "Symbols under the ashes, get forensics to photograph it and have it all sent over."

"Yessir," the Chief sighs, just as tired and worn down by this ordeal as Leon felt. As he goes to move past him, the Chief catches his arm, drawing his attention back. "Have you read the history on this guy?"

Leon frowns, shaking his head. "Not yet, first time I've heard his name."

The Chief looks a little pale. "Not me. We arrested this scumbag years ago."

"What for?" Leon turns a little more toward him.

"Trafficking children, teenage girls. He had a computer full of disgusting shit."

"Then why the hell isn't he in jail?" Leon's scowl deepens.

The Chief simply shrugs. "The best lawyer money could buy. Don't know who funded it. We had his balls nailed to the wall and somehow.." he lifts his hands, like he was at an utter loss. "Some of us think the Judge was bought and paid for too."

Leon flicks his eyes from the Chief back to the hanging corpse, suddenly, he didn't feel as much sympathy. "That makes two of them."

"You think whoever did this could be nothing to do with some Bio Weapon science project at all? But one of their victims?"

Leon returns his attention to the Chief. "Or both."

An understanding nod. "I don't mind telling you, not feeling a whole lot of pity for this one." He thumbs to the dead man.

Leon tenses his jaw, adding a slight shake of his head. "Scum like that deserves to burn." He admits.

For two men of law and justice, it was quite the thing to admit. But when it came to children, and those that preyed upon and took advantage of them – was there ever any justice that was enough, even death?

Shaking the Chief's hand, Leon heads out to find Sherry who had left slightly before him to catch a breather from the stink of burning flesh. He finds her leaning against his car, her arms folded around herself. She was gazing up at the stars.

"You did good in there," he gives her an encouraging smile as he walks toward her and she looks down from the sky. She returns his smile, breathing deep.

"Not sure that's a smell I'll ever get used to." She admits.

"You and everybody else. Like that fear I told you about, you just have to – find somewhere to put it." He gestures.

"One to go."

"By the sounds of things, the only one worth saving." He sighs, she gives him a curious look and he explains what the Chief had just told him about their latest victim. She looks disgusted.

"What if they were all tied to this, we just can't get our hands on the information?" She shrugs.

"Or they were never caught." Leon theorizes, "nobody knew about the last one until he was murdered and it was all over his computer."

"The others played it smarter?"

"Could be." He moves around to the driver side of his car. "I'm gonna get some coffee, head in to the office. See if we can turn up anything." He didn't have high hopes.

"It's 3am.." Sherry frowns.

"And we need to track down Holly – Lizzie's still out there. Sleep isn't on the cards tonight." He tells her.

"Alright, I'll follow you in." Sherry nods, turning and heading for her car. Leon opens the drivers side door of his and when he does, he notices a file sitting on his seat.

He hesitates, glancing around and then leaning in to pick it up. There was a note, handwritten, on the front of it. Accompanied by a red lipstick kiss.

" _Leon,_

 _I'm sorry I had to cut our time short. I don't know when I'll see you again, duty calls. But as I promised – here's what I could find on Elizabeth Eve Evans. I hope it helps._

 _Ada xxx"_

He looks up, eyes scanning the surrounding area and it's rooftops. The place had been the victim of a terrorist bombing a handful of years ago. The church and surrounding buildings still in a state of disrepair as rival companies bid on what to do with the land. Sometimes these things stayed in limbo far too long, becoming a grim reminder of the evil in the world. Nowhere amongst it was any flicker of red.

Sighing, he returns his attention to the file and opens it up, finding a photograph pinned to paperwork of a pretty blonde girl, no older than 14 at most, standing with her parents.

As he reads, his heart sinks.

Her father was a scientist at Umbrella before Raccoon City. Henry Evans – his area of expertise? Wouldn't you know it. Neurology and Neuropsychology. He worked with the brain. His last known project was an attempt at unlocking the full potential of the human brain. Leon didn't know entirely what that would entail, but he knew many theorized latent abilities like telekinesis and indeed, psychic power were all unlockable traits within the human brain.

Four years ago, Elizabeth had gone missing. Reported abducted from her home in Oregon in the middle of the night by her Mother. She was never found, no trace, no witnesses, no evidence at the scene. Nothing. Henry Evans – now working for the Government - had committed suicide a single week later. Not the action of a Father desperate to find his child – to Leon, that was the action of a man that felt guilty.

Her Mother was still alive. Alicia Anne Evans. Still waiting for her baby girl to come home in Portland. She still placed missing posters around her town, she still had hope.

He swallows down a dry feeling in his throat. He had to find Lizzie. He had to take her home. If there was one good that could come out of this, please let it be that.

Thankyou, Ada.

A new resolve set inside him, he turns the key in the ignition of his 2011 Dodge Challenger SRT-8 and it's satisfying roar echoes the feeling inside. No Mother should be without her child, not if he could take her home. He pushes the car into gear and sets off.

* * *

The DSO Headquarters at night were still a bustling hive of activity. Protecting the country never really slept, and personnel from the other agencies that occupied this building were also on duty. He arrives alongside Sherry and they head to a computer station clutching coffees and a new kind of determination. Leon sets the file Ada had left down for Sherry to read – her reaction is very similar to his. They needed to get this girl back to her Mother, if any good were to come out of any of this.

Leon switches tactics, abandoning looking for a project that was currently being worked on by the named victims and instead, searching out old records for Umbrella. There was a lot on file, and they track down Henry Evans with relative ease. A glowing record. A brain that was unrivalled. They'd been looking in to weaponizing psychic ability – because of course they had. Everything up until Umbrellas dissolution had however, failed. After leaving Umbrella he was swiftly snapped up by branches of the Government to continue his research, that was where the walls started lifting.

A clearance required that was far higher than Leon's – and Leon's was pretty damn high. He sits back in his seat, gritting his teeth and twiddling a pen between his fingers.

"Who did he work with?" Sherry asks.

"At Umbrella?" Leon responds, sitting forward again and backtracking the search. He narrows his eyes, going through a list of project names from confiscated records. So many biblical references, scientists sure did like to think they were playing God. After sifting through a handful, they fall upon a file named 'Project Abaddon'. The name meant absolutely nothing to Leon, but as he browses the information provided, Sherry looks it up.

"Abaddon was a fallen angel, his name meant 'To destroy'.. He was a demon prince of destruction." She reads out quietly.

Leon pulls a face, chewing on the inside of his lip. "That sounds like an Umbrella project to me."

The project had been an attempt enhance a sector of the brain believed to be responsible for – you guessed it – telekinetic ability. The end goal being to create a Bio Weapon capable of effecting objects and indeed targets, with nothing but it's mind. They wanted to create a destroyer that wouldn't have to lift a finger to wipe out its enemies. If you stood across the battlefield from such a thing, you wouldn't stand a chance. Had they succeeded, things would have gone very differently for the Umbrella Corporation and likely the world. Fortunately, they hadn't. The project was deemed a complete failure, resulting in the deaths of four of its test subjects and never making it beyond an awful sounding surgical phase.

There's a photograph of the team. Six men.

Leon sits back in his seat and simply stares, as Sherry lifts the files on all five of the Shadows victims.

"It's them.." He murmurs, "they changed their fuckin' names after Umbrella dissolved. That's why we can't find shit."

"How? How do you wipe out your past and keep your qualifications in tact?" Sherry asks, placing photos of the five dead scientists down in front of him to verify what they were seeing.

"I don't know. I guess you have to know some people.." he lifts his eyes to her.

"Like Government people." She says quietly.

He sighs, checking each photo. Without a doubt, it was their victims.

Stephen Jackson

Kenneth Miller

Marcus White

Timothy Kendall

Adam Bates

Alongside Lizzie's Father and head of the project, Henry Evans.

"But no Holly.." Leon taps his pen on the desk, looking up at Sherry again thoughtfully.

Everything about it made Leon's skin crawl. You reaped what you sowed, and these scientists had paid their price in blood and pain. It didn't make the idea that the Government was attempting to create goddamn psychic soldiers any better, if such a thing were even possible. You crossed that line, there'd be one last World War and it would be a very, very short one. If what they had seen from this Shadow was anything to go by. Leon gets up from his seat and grabs his coat, pulling it back on.

"Where are we going?" Sherry asks.

"Holly's house. I'm not leaving until we have some clue as to where she is." He says flatly.

"That's breaking and entering.." Sherry reminds as she hurries to catch up with him.

He settles his jacket on his shoulders and looks to her. "Then they can arrest me, or bill me."

* * *

Pulling up outside Holly's home some time around 7am, Leon isn't interested in being subtle. He pounds on the door with his fist three times, before pulling out his gun. He takes hold of the barrel and uses the handle to smash out a glass panel, holstering it again he reaches through and undoes the lock, heading inside.

"Find her computer, look for plane tickets, train tickets, anything.." He tells Sherry, who hurries off while he flicks on lights and begins ransacking the woman's living room. Looking for the same but in paper form. A receipt, a letter, any clue as to where she might have taken off to to try and escape her fate. He moves through the dining room and discovers a pile of files, all on her co-workers. She'd drawn big red X's over the faces of the ones she knew to be dead, only her own and the latest, Adam Bates were left uncrossed.

He leafs through them, then puts them aside, going to her filing cabinet which sat next to the computer Sherry was working on. The top two drawers were full of nothing but reports on children she worked with. Psychological profiles and the like, nothing of interest. The third drawer is locked. Leon heads to the kitchen, grabbing a large, sturdy looking knife he brings it back to the file drawer, jams it into the small gap and wrenches. The lock comes away easily and he chucks the knife down, pulling it out. He grabs every folder in there and dumps them onto the dining table. They fall in a disorganized pile, and something instantly catches his eye.

"Shit." He hisses. Sherry turns in her seat and looks up to him.

"What is it?"

He lifts a file from the middle of the pile. On the cover, printed in an ink stamp of black and around the size of a coffee mug rim, the seal of Lilith. Sherry gets to her feet, moving beside him as he takes a breath and opens up the folder. Inside, profiles on six children. Psychological report notes, hand written. He leafs through, and notices that on every one of them, they were listed as 'Deceased'. Until the last. Lizzie's.

He feels his stomach clench in to a knot as he looks at the pretty girls photo at the top of her report. She's described as above average intelligence, extremely self aware, excelling at math and able to solve complex puzzles faster than her fellow 'Test subjects'. As the dates go by, the reports begin to deteriorate, much like they had on the reports of the other children all carried out around the same time. She was described as becoming erratic, lethargic, confrontational. Emotional, withdrawn.

"Elizabeth Eve has begun to display violent tendencies in our sessions," he reads quietly, "gone is the bright, enthusiastic girl I met at the start of this project. Her thought processes have become dark and disturbing. She complains of constant nightmares and being unable to sleep. I have brought this up with the Doctors in charge of the project, they are dismissing it as a side effect. If it is a side effect to what they are doing, this project needs to be brought to an end. This was meant to heal, not harm."

He swipes his tongue over his lower lip, chewing on it as he moves to another page, another date. "Doctor Bates insists Elizabeth is excelling in the program, all I see is a broken down teenager that cannot sleep and has begun to self harm. This is not progress, it is torture."

"Oh my God." Sherry says sadly to his side. Leon clears his throat, continuing.

"This is her final entry.." he murmurs, "I cannot be a part of this any more. They lied to me. Elizabeth Eve is a broken child, and I helped break her. God forgive me." He stares at the hand written words on the page, feeling a cold creep through his gut to his heart. The files told the story of a woman that thought she was stepping in to a project to help children, and had ended up with the lives of five on her hands, and a broken Lizzie. "What did they do to them?" He says quietly.

Sherry wraps her arms around herself, perhaps reliving her own memories of what had been done to her. Leon draws in a deep breath, closing the file and placing it down, he runs a comforting hand over Sherry's back.

"We still have a job to do." He mutters, "gather all this up, we're taking it."

She nods, beginning to pull together the files into an organized pile as he continues to search through the house.

As he sifts through the kitchen drawers, the house phone suddenly rings, making both of them look at one another. Leon considers the options for a few moments, then heads over to it, lifting it from the wall and answering. Prepared to interrogate anyone looking for Holly as to where she might be.

"Hello?"

"Who is this?" A female voice asks.

"Who is this?" He counters. A pause stretches out.

"What are you doing in my house?" She asks quietly.

Leon quickly turns, looking to Sherry and snapping his fingers to get her attention. "Is this Holly Davis?" He again throws the question back.

"It is, you're breaking and entering, you better have a damn good..."

"I'm Leon Kennedy, with the Division of Security Operations, a branch of the Gover..."

"I know what that is, I'm not an idiot." Holly snaps, "why are you in my home?"

"I'm looking for you. I was assigned to investigate the case of a group of scientists, murdered by an unknown entity. I believe you know an Elizabeth Eve Evans, she says you're last on the list. I want to help you."

The silence stretches, then becomes a laugh. "It's a nice thought, Mr Kennedy. But you can't help me."

"Well I'd like to try, I'm kinda good at it." He argues.

"You can't protect anybody from what's coming for me. Go home, have a drink, it'll all be over soon."

"With all due respect, it's my job. And.. even if you can't help yourself, maybe you can still help Elizabeth. She's just a child."

More of that silence, it hangs there, a dead weight in the air.

"Holly, I saw the file. I know you were involved in something you didn't want to be. Help me, help her." He says it gently, "we found her Mother. We'd really like to reunite them."

Leon hears a slight sob on the other end of the phone and he braces a hand against the wall, bowing his head. "I don't think we have much time." He adds.

"Would you enter in the code 65704 to my alarm system? So my phone stops alerting me you're there." She sighs eventually.

"Once you agree to meet me somewhere," he bargains. "Don't let a bad decision be the worst decision. Let me help."

She sighs heavily down the phone. "I suppose I'm going to die anyway, someone should know the truth."

* * *

They pull up outside the Washington Biotech Institute around 4pm. It was the earliest Holly could make it back in to the city from where she'd been hiding out, and it was neutral ground. Not only that, but a mind like Rebecca's inserted in to this situation could prove to be invaluable. It was the weekend, for the most part the building was shut down, but as he and Sherry arrive at the double front doors, Rebecca waves at them from the inside, coming down to enter a code and let them in. Leon holds the door for Sherry to pass through, clutching the pile of files recovered from Holly's house. He'd patched up the panel in the woman's door before they'd left her home, and entered in the code to re-set the alarm. He intended on her being able to go home to it.

"I thought you were bringing a guest?" Rebecca asks as they come inside.

"She's on her way," Leon nods, looking back out to the parking lot, "at least I hope she is." He turns back to face Rebecca, "thanks for doing this."

"Hey, anything to help. What have you got?" Becca shrugs.

"Mostly hand written profiles on Elizabeth and the other children involved in the experiment. It's.. pretty sad." Sherry hands her the files.

"Oh man, kids?"

"Teenagers, but yeah. All of them." Leon gestures to the files. They'd had a chance to read through every one since leaving Holly's house. "Seems like the program lasted a few years, with the real nose dive happening in the last year. All of them went downhill suddenly, turning violent, erratic. Depressed."

"Does it say what the project actually was?" Rebecca asks, leafing through.

Leon shakes his head. "What we're hoping Holly will have the answers to."

As he says it, a cab pulls up in the parking lot and the attention of all three turns to it. Watching. Waiting. After a few moments and dark haired lady in a blouse and pants gets out. As smartly dressed as she was, she also looked tired and pale. Drained, as she walks up to the doors. Rebecca moves to punch in the entry code and Leon goes to meet her at the door, holding out his hand to her. She takes it and shakes it.

"So, you're the man that owes me a new door?" Holly asks him. He gives her a small smile.

"I patched it up, and I'll pay for the repair." He agrees.

"Well, after tonight you probably won't have to." Holly shrugs, looking around at the others. They introduce themselves, more handshakes, like a formal business meeting. Rebecca ushers them through to her lab, out of sight of the outside world. There were few lights on in the building with barely anybody around, but Rebecca's lab is brightly lit and a welcome escape from the hallways full of shadows.

"Elizabeth, how is she?" Holly asks in a weary tone as she takes a seat at a table.

"Honestly, I don't know." Leon answers, "last time I saw her was yesterday, she was asleep on my couch after freaking out when I tried to take her in to work. She screamed, she broke glass." He quirks an eyebrow, looking for a sign of recognition.

Holly smiles sadly, giving a small nod.

"You got any idea why she'd be terrified of the Benford Memorial Building?" He presses.

"Aside from it all being part of the same cruel machine?" Holly produces a cigarette from her purse and under the circumstances, Rebecca doesn't object to her lighting it. "No. No idea."

"But you don't sound too shocked that she broke glass." Leon folds his arms, leaning against the wall near the door and gazing at her.

Holly taps her lighter against the table, exhaling a cloud of smoke. "She would panic, things would break. It was all part of the 'program'." She makes air quotation marks with her fingers. Then pockets her lighter, rolling her eyes and taking another drag on her cigarette. "They told me it was an independent project for intelligent children that had degenerative brain diseases. I was meant to keep track of them, their psychological progress, their mental well-being. I don't know what the treatments were, I just know..."

She trails off and swallows, like the words were thick in her mouth.

"It was all a lie. They weren't trying to cure sick children at all. I wasn't supposed to know and for the first year or so things seemed normal, but I became suspicious something else was happening I wasn't being told about. Instead of seeing progress I started to see the degeneration of these kids, they spiraled down fast over the last year. I was told it was side effects of the new medications they were being administered but it wasn't that. It was more." She taps the ash at the end of her cigarette in to her own palm. Rebecca finds her a dish for it.

As Leon lifts his hand to his mouth and begins to chew his thumb nail, she continues. "They were torturing these kids. Mentally.. physically. Trying to break them. Trying to.. fracture them. Pick apart their minds. Awaken something." She lets out a small laugh, shaking her head. "They woke something alright."

"What do you mean, torturing them?" Leon rumbles.

"I mean **torturing** them." Holly looks back up at him. "Like they were testing the endurance of the human mind before it just snapped like a twig."

"Why?" Sherry murmurs, horrified.

"They were trying to make a weapon. I saw things on whiteboards. I stole notes here and there. They tried to keep me in the dark about it but.. I knew more was going on than they let on. They were all homeless girls for a reason. No roots, nobody to run home to, and girls are generally believed to be more susceptible to this kind of thing. They called the project 'Lilith'. A demon Goddess." She snorts.

"They tortured those poor fucking children in the name of science. To break their minds, to wake up some latent part of the brain. Apparently, some Neuropsychologist back in the days of Umbrella had a theory that you could wake up dormant parts of the brain through a mixture of drug therapy and trauma. Like brain activity that changes if you're brought back from the dead. It changes too, if you go through something traumatic. So many with near death, horrendous experiences have reported changes in thought process, even intelligence."

"I've heard of that," Rebecca says quietly, folding her arms around herself.

Holly takes another long drag on her cigarette. "Apparently, if there's a chance it could win a war in some foreign country some day, anything goes."

Leon felt sick to his stomach. "They were trying to create something that would end war completely. Because you can't fight a thing that can just switch you out like a light."

"They quickly discovered they couldn't control it, either." Holly laughs bitterly.

"They succeeded." Leon says flatly.

"It's not the end result they were looking for, obviously. But.. yes, here we are." Holly flicks her ash.

"Jesus.." He shakes his head, leaning it back against the wall and gazing up at the ceiling. "We got NSA chiefs taking out Presidents and Government paid scientists torturing children to make weapons."

"What's that saying? All's fair in love and war?" Holly asks him, dripping with sarcasm. "The project is listed as privately funded at any rate, I doubt you'll find a single document tying it to the Government. They would only have taken credit if it had worked out as intended, and even then they wouldn't lay claim to the method. Just a bunch of Government employed scientists working on a private project in their spare time."

Leon grits his teeth.

"So what is it, pure harnessed negative energy?" Rebecca queries.

Holly looks at her steadily. "The children stopped being able to sleep, something in the drug they gave them. It brought something dormant to the surface. Most of the children died after a few weeks."

Leon feels a cold hand grip his heart, everything suddenly falling in to place. He closes his eyes.

"It's Lizzie, isn't it." He says quietly.

Holly regards him intently, giving him his answer in a small nod. "They fractured her mind, created something really.. really angry. And woke up a dormant part of her brain by removing her ability to sleep. They essentially gave life to a second personality, one they tortured in to her." She stubs out her cigarette, blowing out her last breath.

"But I've seen her sleep.." Leon frowns.

"You've seen her rest her eyes, Mr Kennedy." Holly corrects him. "She slips in to a kind of comatose state for brief periods, but it's not normal, healthy sleep."

Leon bows his head, rubbing his hand over his stubble covered chin. "And the shadow turned up while she was out."

"She has no control over it, it's not her doing this." Holly continues, "it's the thing they created inside her. If anything it influences her more than she influences it. The last time I spoke to her, four months ago, she was terrified of it. Spoke of it as a demon within."

"But it's just her, in the end. Her pain, her suffering.. the part of her they broke." He reasons.

"Well, hopefully her suffering ends.. along with this _thing_.. once I'm dead." Holly fishes out another cigarette.

Leon grits his teeth, staring at the other woman for a time. "There has to be something we can do. There has to be."

"What if we could give her her sleep back?" Rebecca speaks up. "Sleep deprivation is ongoing torture in itself. If we could give her that back, somehow.."

"And let her know she's not fucking alone, that she doesn't have to be scared anymore, give her a reason to fight it." Leon nods, looking to Holly. "Let her know we found her Mom."

Holly simply shrugs. "Maybe."

Leon pushes away from the wall. "Maybe is better than No. I don't know how to give up on people." He looks to Rebecca. "Whatever you can do, Bec."

"How will we find her?" Sherry asks as Rebecca moves around to her computer.

"We won't need to." Leon looks at Holly. "In a few hours, she'll come right to us."


	11. Hope

**Authors Note:** Its amazing what you can do when someone offers you a little strength. This chapter might seem short - you may even think it a little anticlimactic. But this isn't the climax to this tale. And this is about hope, finding it, giving it, holding it. Having it. Onward..

* * *

 **Each card has its own name: The Magician; The Empress; The Fool; The Wheel of Fortune; Strength. They represent challenges and tests, twists of fate. No card is all good or all bad. Cards can be positive or negative depending on where they fall. When you read someones fortune, the cards read in sequence, each card leads to the next. We move from terror and loss to unexpected good fortune, and out of darkness, hope is born.**

* * *

Waiting. Leon was good at waiting. You had to do a lot of it in the business he was in, a lot of travelling, a lot of hours to psyche yourself up before you had to march in to the unknown and probably fight for your life. The calm moments were worth taking advantage of. An opportunity to still your mind, center yourself, get ready. If his mind had ever needed calming and centering, it was now. Part of him wanted to call Claire – his anchor, his forever calm in the storm – but dragging her in to all of this right now seemed like the worst idea possible and they weren't exactly on the greatest of terms. Instead, he tumbles a coin over his fingers. Something he'd learned to do to focus himself a long time ago, tripping it from finger to finger and back again, watching the silver pass from side to side. Sherry was watching him, fascinated.

The last 24 hours had been a lot to take in. A lot to digest, and the things he'd learned over the course of the last few hours sank like a stone inside. For every good person in a lab fighting the good fight, there was some terrible monster dreaming up the next worst thing. This was the worst thing, Leon couldn't imagine a mentality that could put building a weapon over the welfare of a kid. But it seemed Scientists stopped at nothing, he only had to look at Sherry to be reminded of that. Her own fucking Father – mutated and demented or not - had infected her with a G-Embryo. Human beings were being turned in to lab rats everywhere you turned, and it was horrifying.

Was this 'Project Lilith' Government sanctioned? Or was it just a bunch of crackpot scientists trying to make a buck by creating an impossible weapon? According to Holly, it was the latter. But with everything he'd seen lately, bad seeds within the Government were nothing new. They needed flushing out, every single one of them. Something he intended on dedicating a lot of time to, once this was over.

However it turned out.

He draws his gun, safety on, he empties the clip and puts it aside. Unloaded. The Shadow hadn't hurt him, and it hadn't hurt Ada. It hadn't hurt lots of people. He didn't believe it was pure, unbridled fury. Holly was talking from a place of fear, but he had seen it in action. Up close and personal. It had saved Ada from dying – it wasn't evil. It was just capable of it, because it was born from rage and pain. It was still Elizabeth. And he could reach her.

It was what he did, what he was good at. Reaching people in the depths of their fear, pulling them back from the brink. Getting them through. "Rebecca?"

"Yeah?"

"You got a gun in here?" He asks.

"Of course."

"Empty it," he says quietly.

Rebecca looks a little confused.

"There can't be anything in here it feels threatened by." He says calmly, "it needs to know we're not trying to hurt it."

All eyes on him.

"Both times I've been face to face with this thing the only move it's made has been when I threatened it. It's not here for us, it's here for her." He nods to Holly, who blows out a puff of smoke and looks thoroughly resigned to her fate. It was impressive really, but he supposed she'd had a lot of time to get used to the idea it was her turn soon. "It's not evil. It's just capable of it. Because it's hurt.. and angry.. it's fear and it's pain. And we can reach that. I can reach that."

Holly chuckles and it raises his hackles a little. "You're going to sit down and try to reason with it?"

"No. I'm going to reason with her. Because it IS her." He responds with a small nod.

"I don't think you understand.." Holly goes to argue.

"And I think you're seeing it from a place of complete fear. I've been in front of this thing twice and it's done nothing. It even saved someone from dying.."

Holly frowns, "it did?"

"Someone I was working with, slipped from a rooftop and it stopped her from hitting the ground." He explains carefully, "held her there in mid air, until it could lower her in to my arms."

Holly sits up a little straighter, a thoughtful look on her face.

"Lizzie doesn't want to hurt you, Holly. She can stop it, I know she can. We just have to.. reach her. Believe in her. I know you're about to look your death in the eye but I've watched you sit here like a champ and smoke a pack and wait for it without flinching.. when she.. when it gets here. We have to try and reach her."

"You want me to be nice to the thing that wants to rip me to shreds?" Holly laughs.

"Yes. At the very least, don't anger it." It's a simple answer. Leon follows it up with a disbelieving chuckle of his own. "Trust me, I kill shit for a living, I fight monsters and I take down terrorist organizations. I do it with guns and knives. I'm out of my element here too. But I'm also really good at getting people through the worst situations of their lives. We just have to reach her."

Three sets of female eyes look at him in equal parts curiosity and inspiration. He wasn't much for motivational speeches, but he couldn't give up on this kid and just kill her. He had to believe she could be saved, or everything seemed more hopeless than it already did.

"Will you do that for me? All of you?" He looks from woman to woman.

Rebecca gets to her feet, heading across the room to a locked desk and opening it up. She takes out her handgun and unloads it, putting it away again. "Thankyou," he smiles gently at her.

"I hope you're right." Holly says dryly. "Don't suppose any of you got anything to drink?"

"Soda machine down the hall," Rebecca points toward the door.

"I meant a real drink."

"Unfortunately, you picked a bad week to be asking me for one of those.." Leon says with a slight smirk. He was past four days sober, officially. He actually felt a little proud of himself, especially now the tremors seemed to have passed. Maybe he really could give this a try. He'd see how he felt after a week.

He flips the coin in his hand, lands it on his knuckles and starts bouncing it finger to finger again.

"Got it.." Rebecca whispers a small triumph by her computer. Leon's about to ask her what she's found when the sound of shattering glass bursts through the building. Making all of them startle. Holly gets to her feet, beginning to back up. Leon holds his hand out to her.

"Stay calm."

"Easy for you to say!" she snaps back at him.

"It's just Lizzie!" He reminds.

"Right! The part of her that wants me dead!"

More breaking glass. Everybody in the lab holds their breaths, Leon finds his hand hovering next to where his gun would usually be sat in it's holster. But of course, it's not there, and it was useless anyway. This was one battle he couldn't fight with weapons.

They hear the crunch of footsteps over broken pieces of window. Making their way slowly.

Closer.

Closer.

Leon swallows down a dryness in his throat. He wasn't losing this kid.

Crunch.

Crunch.

Closer.

"Fuck.." Holly shivers, pressed up against the wall now. The fear on her face readable from across the room.

"Breathe.." Leon soothes from where he stood, near to the door. "Stay with me, Holly."

He could tell she wanted to yell. Holler at it. Be defiant in the face of death. It was an instinct so many of them had. To dare it to come for you, just to try you. He'd done it himself in the past. Threatened to beat the Grim Reaper to death with his dick – don't ask.

Thanks to the lights in the lab, the shadow of the eighteen year old enters the room before she does. A simple silhouette on the floor. Leon holds his hand out, watching as Lizzie steps in to the room a moment later like Carrie. Her eyes were closed, she still wore his jacket and the clothes from the hospital. She was a dishevelled mess. But he didn't suppose she cared much what she looked like, all things considered. But where was 'it?'

"Lizzie?" He says her name quietly, "sweetheart, its Leon.. can you hear me?" He moves a little closer as she takes three more steps in to the room, then she comes to a stop. Its eerie. The silence and electricity practically crackles in the air, he can feel the eyes of Sherry and Rebecca upon him, while Holly whimpers up against that wall. He feels every hair on his arms and the back of his neck begin to rise.

Then the shadow begins to form, right in front of her. As if its melting up from the floor out of her actual shadow, the inky, black mass taking shape slowly but surely. He can't help it, he'd never seen anything quite like it. It froze you to the spot, made you watch in fear and awe as it swirled and undulated, becoming its own figure in front of the traumatized young girl. This was what they wanted, a manifestation, a thing they could send in to battle. No lives lost for the winning side, just some traumatized kids to make the winning weapon. A small price to pay – that would be the reasoning.

He can hear it breathe. Heavy. Angry. Staring down it's final victim. Leon's heart was pounding in his chest. He carefully reaches toward it.

It's roar is deafening and the screams of the three women fill the room as it strikes Leon's chest with an unseen hand and he's sent flying, crashing through lab equipment on a desk and tumbling to the floor. He lands on his stomach, bits of glass digging in to the skin of his hands and sticking through his t shirt. Thank god for leather jackets. "Ow.." he grumbles. Pushing himself up. He hears Holly's screams and he moves faster, getting to his feet to see her being lifted off the floor by fucking nothing. The shadow had moved closer, its low rumbling growl filling the room, it sounded like you'd imagine a dinosaur would, or some beast from the abyss wanting the world to cower in fear. Lizzie stood like a statue, head bowed, eyes closed. He had to reach her.

"What do we do?!" Sherry calls out to him.

He lifts a finger to his lips. The best thing they could do was stay quiet and stay out of the way. He moves around the work station, edging forward again.

"I know you're hurt.." He talks to it, "I know everything.. hurts. But she wasn't one of the ones that hurt you. She didn't know." He talks calmly and loudly, "Lizzie doesn't want her punished. Neither do you. She tried to help."

It drops Holly but turns on him, a swirling black mass that rises over him like a phoenix from the ashes and once again he's swiped by unseen hands. This time he hits the wall so hard it cracks plaster, and he lands on his back heavily enough to knock the wind from him. He bites his tongue, the strong metallic taste of blood filling his mouth. Groaning, he rolls over. Spitting out blood and saliva. Forcing himself back up.

"Leon!" Holly cries, she was pressed against the wall again. The Shadow in front of her. In a lab full of smashed equipment, shards of glass from all around begin rising. It was going to impale her on all of it. He could see it happening before it happened.

"Stop this!" He calls out to it, "she didn't hurt you!"

He's thrown in to a glass cabinet, a large shard slicing through the arm of his jacket and through his bicep. He clutches at the wound, wincing as other shards of glass poke through fabric and into his skin. Little tiny bites all over his body. Pushing himself up, he goes to address the shadow again. But it was pointless. The thing was just a thing. It had no control, it was doing what it was doing. He could hear Holly beginning to choke under it's grasp, as glass gathered in huge splinters and tiny shards in front of her. If it threw all that at her at once, she'd be shredded like a lettuce.

He limps to Lizzie, grabbing her face, bringing her forehead to his. She had to be the one with the control. "Lizzie honey it's Leon, I need you to wake up." He says quietly, "I need you to come back to me sweetheart. Please. I know you can hear me. You heard me when Ada fell. I don't want you to fall too, the people that hurt you deserved it. But Holly wasn't one of them. You can fight this thing," he whispers. He hears Holly begin to scream, it was driving in the glass, slowly. He grits his teeth. "You are more powerful than this thing. I know you are. I can't lose you too, kid. I promised I'd keep you safe. I can't do that if you don't fight this."

A single tear runs down her cheek, and he feels it hit his thumb. He swipes it away.

"You hear me don't you?" He encourages. "You're so strong. You've survived so much. I'm so sorry this happened to you." He swipes away another of her tears as it falls. He hears Sherry yell at him to hurry and Holly's screams turn in wails. "It's not bigger than you. No fight is ever bigger than you. Trust me. We're warriors. We survive. It's what we do. Come back. Fight with me." He lifts his head, kissing her forehead. "I'll take care of you. I'll take you back to your Mom."

There's a crash of falling glass in tandem with a gasp of breath as Lizzie's eyes snap open. He grabs her to him as her legs give out and she clings to his shirt. Looking over his shoulder, the shadows still there, a swirling black mass of rage. But Holly is alive, on the floor surrounded by glass, but alive. "Send it away, sweetheart. I know you can.." he encourages, cradling the young girl. "Fight it."

It lets out an ungodly roar, he braces for being hurled in to something else. But it doesn't come. Lizzie screams right back at it. Her eyes scrunched tightly shut, she fights back the demon. A battle only she could win, perhaps with the help of her hero by her side.

Just as it appeared, its begins to evaporate. Whisping away to nothing, fading along with its angry scream. Lizzie's eyes slide open again, the girl panting, looking up at him. He smiles back at her, brushing her hair back from her face.

"You really found my Mom?" She sobs.

"Yes sweetheart, she's still alive. They lied to you." He tells her, rocking her gently.

She breaks down in his arms, and he holds her. Somehow, he felt more exhausted than he ever had. Somewhere he'd read that the hardest battles were fought in the mind. He closes his eyes, resting his cheek against her head and letting her win her battle. Whoever said that, they weren't wrong.

He needed a...

Coffee.

He needed a coffee.

* * *

Leon sits on the edge of one of Rebecca's work stations as a paramedic bandaged his arm. He needed some stitches, but he'd head in to the medics at work to get that done. It was a nice, five inch gash to add to his collection. But the leather jacket that had seen him through the horrors of Tall Oaks was done for, oh well, it was about time he got a new one anyway. He'd been eyeing one with two vertical white stripes down the arms for a while now. Strange the things you think about when you're stone cold sober and in the aftermath of – well – something.

Who knew he could fight a war with his heart as well as his hands.

Holly was alive, and tended to by paramedics. Their official story? A group lie, that the BOW had attacked them and he'd defeated it. And these things tended to, it had dissolved away in to nothing. They took his word, who was going to argue with someone from the Government.

In reality, they had a new plan. Lizzie had new strength, and Rebecca had worked her magic. Hacking the files on the Lilith project, she'd discovered what they'd used in order to fracture the cycle of sleep. Bringing about this awakening in the brain.

"Give me a couple of days, I should be able to reverse what they did," Rebecca says to him quietly. He lifts his hand, cupping her cheek and placing a big, sloppy kiss on her other. It makes her squirm and giggle and pull away.

"Ew.."

"Psh." he blows her off with a wink.

"You did good," she smiles at him.

"Yeah? Think I got a future career as a talk show host or something? Fixing the worlds problems one trauma at a time?" He quips.

"You know, that probably wouldn't be a bad idea. Sometimes heroes aren't the ones that blast in in a blaze of glory. They're the ones that are just there for you when you need someone." Rebecca smiles.

He returns it, thoughtful. "Well, if I ever lose the use of my hands or something.. I'll consider it."

"You do that. I'm going to put something together to help her get some chemically induced sleep at least, until I can reverse this crap they pumped her full of."

He nods at the clever scientist – and the only one he was ever trusting again – then hops off of the counter. "Oh hey, Becca?"

"Yeah?" she looks back to him.

"Sorry I trashed your lab." He smirks.

She rolls her eyes. "I'll bill the DSO. It's fine."

He laughs, clutching his arm and wandering over to where Holly sat, her wounds being tended to by paramedics.

"Mr Kennedy.."

"Ms Davis." he returns in an equally formal manner.

"I guess you owe me a door." She says with a light laugh.

"I guess I do. You alright?" he asks, looking her over. She was covered in tiny cuts, medics would be removing embedded shards for a while. But nothing was life threatening.

"Considering it was going to shred me.. yes. I'm alright. Thanks to you."

He shakes his head. "All I did was get thrown around a bit. She won the fight." He gestures to the kid sitting wrapped up in his coat still and sitting with Sherry, she looked so tired.

"I wish I knew what made her so strong," Holly says thoughtfully, "strong enough to withstand this, when the others died."

He shakes his head. "I think she's had enough science for one lifetime. Whatever the reason, we're fixing her up, sending her home."

"Let me know how she does?" Holly looks up to him. "I mean, you know my address."

Leon breathes out a laugh, nodding. "I will. You take care." He nods as she's led away to the waiting ambulances. A hobble in her walk thanks to being studded with glass. Women, they were some of the toughest creatures on earth. Never failed to amaze him.

"Hows my girls?" He asks, wandering over to them.

"I was just telling her about my crazy Dad.. turns out we have some things in common," Sherry shrugs, smiling at him.

"You really kinda do. No more mad scientists, okay?" He muses.

"I'm sorry you got hurt," Lizzie frowns.

He shakes his head, "nah, had worse. A lot worse. I'm good." He sits down beside her. "Becca's going to get you something to help you sleep. Give us a couple days, we'll reverse this shit they put in your head." He gently taps the side of it and she smiles.

"Really?" She looks at him wide eyed.

"I can't do much for the memories, kid. But I can switch off the nightmare." He hesitates, "well, Rebecca can. I'm not nearly smart enough."

The three of them laugh.

"When can I see my Mom?" she asks.

"Soon, once we got you fixed up." He promises, tucking some of her hair back for her. "What did they tell you about your parents?"

She frowns. "I don't remember much. I remember going to bed.. and then waking up in some strangers house and them telling me my parents were dead." She shrugs, sniffling. "Everything is hazy."

Leon nods, he didn't want to push her in to remembering more shit right now. Maybe some questions were best left unanswered. Sometimes the horror of the answers was too much to bear. He wasn't sure how much more horror the kid could handle. It was time to start focusing on the future, not the past. He'd been living in the past himself just lately, he should probably try to do the same.

* * *

A couple of hours later he carries the soundly sleeping Lizzie in to his apartment, carefully setting her down on his big, comfy couch and covering her with a blanket. She was out like a light, whatever concoction Rebecca had given to her had worked in a handful of moments. He supposed if you hadn't slept in months, when your body finally got the chance to, it was going to take it in a big bad way. It might be chemically induced, which wasn't perfect, but if he knew Rebecca – the smartest girl in the world – she'd have a fix for the kids brain in days.

Exhausted and aching, he takes himself off to a steaming hot shower. Covering his bandaged arm in plastic wrap first, he steps under the waterfall of water and washes away the blood from the myriad of tiny little cuts around his body. It wasn't the first time, it probably wouldn't be the last. He braces his hands against the wall and lets the hot water rain down over the back of his neck and his shoulders. Soothing years worth of tired muscles and abuse to his body.

There was so much evil in the world, it could be overwhelming sometimes, he'd felt it getting on top of him lately for sure. The bad guys would never stop coming. They'd never stop creating the next monster. The next weapon. The next end of the world scenario - virus or plague.

Which was why people like him could never give up. No matter how tired he was. No matter how much his body ached or he felt like his brain couldn't take another battle. He couldn't give up. Not yet. There was so much left worth saving.

He gets out of the shower and wraps a towel around his waist, gazing at himself in the mirror over his sink for a minute. His body was a map of scars. War wounds. Like notches on a post signifying the amount of times he'd saved the world – or at least saved some of it. Or at least saved just one. If you could just save one, it was worth it.

Maybe eventually he could save himself.

He brushes his teeth and pads off into his bedroom, drying and tugging on some sweatpants. Briefly checking in on Lizzie, who's snoring like a trooper. It makes him chuckle.

He grabs a bottle of water and returns to his bedroom, pushing the door up and flopping down on to his bed. Lying there on his back and staring at the shadows dancing on the ceiling, cast by the lamp on the bedside table and the street light coming in through his open blinds.

He missed her.

Leaning over, he grabs his phone from the bedside table and swipes his thumb over the screen, scrolling through numbers, he's finds hers. Taking off the block. He presses dial. He didn't care that it was almost 2am.

It rings.. and rings.

"Hello?" The sleepiest sounding Claire Redfield he'd ever heard.

"Hey.." he says softly.

"Leon?"

"Yeah."

"Are you okay?"

He runs his hand over his forehead. "I just wanted to hear your voice." he admits.

Silence.

It just hangs there for a while, and then, "Well I've missed yours." she answers in a quiet, cautious whisper.

He smiles.

"I missed you too.." he says quietly.

He can feel the warmth of her smile over the damn phone.


	12. Sucker Punch

**Authors Note:** RIP Leon's RE6 Tall Oaks Leather Jacket. You will be missed.

* * *

 **May your dreams bring you peace in the darkness**  
 **May you always rise over the rain.**  
 **May the light from above always lead you to love,**  
 **May you stay in the arms of the angels**  
 **May you always be brave in the shadows**  
 **till the sun shines upon you again**  
 **Hear this prayer in my heart and will ne'er be apart**  
 **May you stay in the arms of the angels.**

 **May you hear every song in the forest**  
 **and if ever you lose your own way;**  
 **Hear my voice like a breeze whisper soft through the trees.**  
 **May you stay in the arms of the angels**  
 **May you grow up to stand as a man, love**  
 **with the pride of your family and name.**  
 **When you lay down your head for to rest in your bed**  
 **May you stay in the arms of the angels.**

 **\- Maggie Siff, "Lullaby for a Soldier"**

* * *

Over the next few days Rebecca worked tirelessly on a way to reverse or at least steady the damage done to Elizabeths mind. It wasn't easy. She could remedy the broken sleep that triggered the dormant part of Lizzie's brain and brought forth the Shadow, but there was nothing any of them could do for the trauma the girl had experienced. So Leon brought in the next best comfort he could think of. Claire Redfield. They put their guns in the ground for a greater good and he was glad of it, being at odds with her was the worst feeling and he'd decided amidst all of this that he couldn't keep holding on to bitterness over betrayal. He just couldn't. It dragged you in to darker places than you needed to be and when there was already so much in the world that was broken beyond repair, why weigh yourself down with more?

And besides, Claire had been right. He had been drinking to mask pain. Mask guilt. Mask all the things he didn't want to feel. This young, incredibly strong slip of a girl had taught him sometimes it's just better to face those things. Face them, and fight them.

In the end, there was nothing any of them could have done to stop that monster tearing apart those scientists. It all had to come from Elizabeth. She had to defeat her own demon, or at the very least, tame it a little. Help would come, and Leon had loaned her all of the strength that he could.

He and Claire spent the handful of days talking with the girl, helping her chew over her experience. She explained that it was like being put in the back seat of a car going 90. She was there, she could see what the monster was doing, she just couldn't reach the wheel to stop it. But she'd had influence, she'd been able to leave clues, like a subconscious mind reaching out to try and help. She'd been able to force it to catch Ada, sensing she was someone he cared about. When she had been in control, the beast did it's best to muddle and confuse her. Leave her a shaking, babbling mess. But she'd tried so hard. Leon had become her beacon in the night – she saw him. For what he was. A statement that confused him no end, but she never elaborated.

Once the mad geniuses had brought forth the demon in the girl, they'd kept it subdued. They'd kept her heavily medicated. They'd tried to find ways to make it bow to their will, to conquer it. To harness it and turn it in to a weapon. But they didn't seem to understand, all they'd done was fracture a girl in two, and whatever it was – you could never hold down a persons spirit. It had become too strong for them control, she'd broken out. Pure telekinetic energy breaking free. Causing a massive power surge on the street of the laboratory they were hidden away in.

She explained the incident at the mansion, the beast would always guide her to where these scientists were and once she got there it would take control and inflict it's terror. Upon arriving at the house of Dr Marcus White – he'd been ready for her. Expecting her. He'd shot her with what had to be an extremely strong dose of tranquillizer and loaded her up with drugs pierced in to her arm. He should have been smarter, he should have killed her right there and then. But instead the perverted sadist that he was, had taken advantage of the situation. The opportunity too much for scum like him. Lizzie had seen through distant eyes as she was mauled by the so called man – he sealed his own fate. The tranquillizer and the drugs didn't keep the Shadow hidden away for long, pain brought it forward. It tore his skin from his body.

A deserving end, Leon thought.

A deserving end for all of them. Try as he might, he couldn't see Elizabeth as anything other than a tragic victim and one of the strongest women he'd ever met. And he couldn't see the dormant Shadows victims as anything other than filth that deserved their executions.

After fighting the shadow back and saving Holly, Lizzie felt stronger. More able to control the demon within. Aided by the sleeping medications Rebecca gave her as a temporary fix, she felt more hopeful than she had in a very long time. Maybe her life wasn't over. Maybe – despite everything she'd seen – she could return home. She could be happy. Leon wanted that for her more than anything.

Day Seven. He'd been stone cold sober for a week, which might not seem like all that much to many but to him it was an achievement. He felt clearer than he had in a while, and while his sleep was fraught with nightmares that the alcohol usually doused, he'd made the decision. It was time to stop hiding. If Elizabeth could face her monsters, so could he. And he could do it with the help of..

Her.

Claire and Elizabeth took his bed, camping out like schoolgirls and talking in to the night. He'd hear them from his spot on the couch, gossiping, Claire bringing the girl out of her shell. The guiding light she always was. It was nice to have her around and even though it was in an 'official' capacity, they'd shared a handful of moments that could so easily have become something more – if it wasn't for caution on both of their parts. He'd hurt her so terribly, the thing was, he'd never truly recognized that. He'd apologized a thousand times, he'd begged her forgiveness. But that was all easy to do, wasn't it? It's easy to say you're sorry. It's easy to say 'Please forgive me'. But truly recognizing the gravity of what you have done? He'd never done that. He'd never wanted to take it on amidst all the other weight on his shoulders.

The nightmares the Shadow had injected him with had made him face it. They needed to have a conversation – some time. Once this was done.

"Ugh," Leon grumbles to himself, looking in the mirror and peeling back the dressing over his stitched arm wound. He hated the look of stitches, made you feel like Frankenstein's Monster and it meant he couldn't work out like he wanted to for fear of busting them. Instead, he'd gotten up at 6am and gone for a run, if he couldn't punch shit or do pull ups, he could run. And he ran miles. Returning by 8am with his hair plastered to his forehead and his shirt clinging to him, he'd found Claire and Lizzie making breakfast and watching cartoons. He'd been shooed off by the redhead for stinking up the joint. Now he was fresh out of the shower and rocking a towel, if it wasn't for the teenager in the house, he'd be out there wearing it and giving Claire a hard time.

The thought makes him smirk, adding some of the antiseptic gel he was supposed to to the wound and then sealing it back up again with a fresh dressing. Or trying. It was fiddly to do with one hand. He tries to open the pack with his teeth, then huffs, dropping it and cursing.

"Claire?!" he bellows, bending down to pick it up. A few moments later he hears her on the other side of the door.

"What's up?"

"I need an extra hand." He responds.

"... Leon.."

He chuckles. "Not like that, you pervert. Can you come in?"

There's a moments hesitation, and then the door cautiously opens. Claire peeking around the edge of it as though expecting to see him standing there with his dick in his hand or something. He looks over his shoulder at her and waves the dressing in its wrapper. "Doing this one handed is bullshit." He explains.

"Oh!" Her eyes widen and she lets herself in, pushing the door up behind her and coming over to him. "That I can do, gimme." She gestures for the pack and he hands it over, turning so that his arm was facing her.

She swallows a little – tough for any woman to not react to a body like that standing in front of you, all steamy. Peeling the two sides apart she pulls the dressing free and then dabs around his wound with a clean swab to get rid of the steams moisture. Leon watches her work, this was her thing. She was a badass with a gun, but her energies had always been best spent tending to people in need. She was a healer, through and through.

She offers him a smile and then sticks the dressing over it, carefully smoothing down the edges before declaring, "there, good as new."

"Thanks," he returns her smile, then glances at the wall separating them from the kitchen and living room. "How's she doing?"

Claire rolls up the wrapper and tosses it in a small trash basket, looking back to him with a quirk of her eyebrows. "Good. Really good. Says she's getting a lot of headaches but.. fingers crossed."

Yeah, fingers crossed. Today they were taking her to see Rebecca and if all went according to plan, pretty soon, he could take her home. Home to a Mother that thought her baby was lost forever. It felt good, like a job worth doing.

He folds his arms across his chest and leans back against the sink counter, casual in his towel, all lithe and muscular. Maybe he was doing it a little bit on purpose. He liked the way she got fidgety and the color would rise in her cheeks a bit. Claire licks her lips, shifting her weight from one foot to another.

"Thankyou for staying," he says quietly, "think it's really helped her, you being around."

Claire smiles warmly back at him, she'd knotted that long, cherry red hair up in to a ponytail but little wisps fell around her face and matched the color of her lips. She really was beautiful, he wondered if she knew how much? Or if he had broken her confidence along with her trust, all those years ago. He couldn't help it, couldn't help but wonder. She never mentioned boyfriends, Chris never spoke of her being with anybody. Even in hot weather she seemed to cover up with high neck clothing and body covering everything. Like she was hiding herself away, part badass biker chick, part 'Please don't touch me'. He didn't know – for all he knew she got through men like hot meals – but he'd never heard a word.

"I think so too. When you told me what had happened to her... I just.." Claire gestures a little, a hopeless motion with her hand, "I still don't understand how people can be so cruel."

"I think we're better off not understanding," he says quietly, unfolding his arms and resting his hands behind him on the counter, "the day we can fathom that shit out to ourselves is the day we lose the fight."

"Well, I don't plan on that day ever coming," she replies, silence lingering for a moment or two before she lets out a small laugh. "I should let you.." she waves a hand at him, "put some clothes on."

"Wanna watch?" He winks at her as she starts to move away, she walks directly in to his laundry hamper and grabs it, stumbling and laughing. Blushing furiously. "Eyes on the road, Redfield."

"Shut up." she scoffs, adjusting the hamper back to its spot, "you have a hamper!" She accuses.

"And? Most people have hampers."

"No, most men keep their clothes on the floor."

"You know most men?" He asks.

More furious blushing. "No! I just hear.. I have a lot of girlfriends."

"But not lots of boyfriends?"

"You!" She reaches the door and points back at him, "need to mind your business. And put on some clothes."

He laughs, "why? I look good without them." His hand goes to the knot in his towel and she freezes. She turns the same color as beetroot. He's never watched anybody fumble out through a door more comically. It leaves him chuckling to himself as he sets about getting ready. Shaving, sorting out his mess of hair. To Claire's relief, he puts on clothes. Dark navy jeans, his reliable combat boots, a black T Shirt and his brand new leather jacket with two white stripes down the arms.

When he emerges, Claire takes over the bathroom and he sits on the couch with a coffee and some toast, his ankle slung over his knee, going through some really dull mail. Three people packed in to his small apartment had been kinda hectic, but he liked it. It was nice to have company hanging around. Lizzie puts away the last dish from breakfast and comes over to him, sitting down beside him with a smile.

"She likes you."

He lowers the letter he's looking at and tilts his head to look at her, answering with a small laugh. "What?"

"Claire!" she elaborates with a grin.

He tucks his tongue between his teeth and considers this for a moment. "She used to. That ship sailed though." He shrugs eventually.

"Nuh uh.." Lizzie shakes her head, "she still likes you."

His brow furrows a bit. "She say something?"

"Nope. Didn't need to!" the girl taps her head and his eyebrows jump.

"Riiight. I forgot we got a little fortune teller running around here." His stomach does that flip flop thing it always does when you're told someone likes you.

"Whatever you did to her in that bathroom worked a charm.."

He laughs, clearing his throat. "I didn't do anything. She patched up my arm."

"You like her too."

Leon narrows his eyes, sinking down a little in his seat. "We've known each other forever, went through some shit together. It's just.. a thing."

"Like a love thing?"

"Like a 'mind yo bidness' thing.." he teases gently in his best Will Smith impression.

"You should just kiss her," Lizzie shrugs, "what have you got to lose?"

"Uh.. her." He says flatly, with a nod of his head.

"Are you kidding? You drew on a gun on her and she's still here."

He blinks. The fact that she could see these things was disconcerting. What else could she see? All of your mistakes?

"I drew a gun on her brother, he wanted to eat me. And he would, if I ever touched her again." He explains, unsure why he was laying all this out there, but then again, if she could read him like a book anyway he didn't suppose it mattered. Chris Redfield, the last of the people at that intervention besides Helena that he hadn't spoken to. He had no intention of having anything to do with Helena again – but Chris?

He chews the inside of his cheek, a terrible habit when he was thinking. Truth was he didn't know how to approach the guy. Short of just letting him beat his ass in to the ground, he didn't see a way of having that conversation that wouldn't just make things worse. He really had betrayed him, and that was something he had to live with. Maybe he and Chris Redfield would never see eye to eye again.

As he thinks this, Claire emerges from the bathroom, showered and changed. A tight fitting, high necked black tank top and black jeans that clung to curved hips. Accentuated with a studded chain and leather belt that hung over those curves. She smiles at him, heading to the kitchen to get her deep wine red leather jacket and slip it on.

"Time to go!" Lizzie says brightly, forgetting their conversation and bouncing to her feet. Claire enthuses with her and for a time, Leon just watches them, his mind wandering away with him. He was nearing 40, was this what having a family would be like? Was that something that was even on the cards for him?

Probably not. He was going to die on some battlefield somewhere, likely alone. But he'd do it so other people could live that little dream. Putting that thought aside, he grabs his phone and his keys and gets to his feet with a groan. Time to give this girl her life back.

* * *

Rebecca Chambers was a bona fide genius.

Having hacked the files on this project, she'd spent the past few days researching exactly what was done – chemically – to these kids to change their brain chemistry so drastically. It was equal parts horrifying and fascinating. The research was on to something, which made Leon's skin crawl. If they really managed to create these soldiers then the world was in big trouble. He hoped that Lizzie's case was an anomaly, a one in a billion. Something made her special, something had allowed her to withstand what was done to her and stay alive where the other kids had perished.

He helps the girl up on the bench Rebecca had prepared, the procedure would probably take about an hour and she was going to knock Lizzie out to perform it. It would involve a series of various drugs administered at specific intervals, steadily changing the girls very body chemistry, and giving her her sleep back. If the theory held, it should make the shadow fully dormant once again.

"We'll be right here," he promises her, running his hand over her brow as she lies on the bench, looking anxious. She didn't like medical situations, and who the fuck could blame her. "Becca's gonna put that nightmare to sleep."

"You'll be here when I wake up?" she asks in a whisper. He answers with a nod.

"And we'll call your Mom." They hadn't yet, they wanted to make sure the procedure worked before getting the woman's hopes up. Before getting either of their hopes up, really.

Lizzie's smile could light up a room, and Rebecca moves around to carefully place an oxygen mask over her face. "We'll see you in the blink of an eye, sweetheart." Claire gives her hand a squeeze.

They watch as her eyes slowly close and she drifts away in to sleep. Rebecca waits a moment or two, then switches on some beeping monitors and a screen with a scan of the girls brain on it. Leon had enough medical training to get by on a battlefield, all of this was beyond his scope of knowledge.

"You can go get a coffee or something," Rebecca smiles at them, "I'll call you back when I'm ready to wake her up."

Agreeing, he and Claire head out and for the buildings small cafeteria, picking up a couple of coffees and taking them outside. It was a warm, sunny day and nicer outside than indoors. They find a spot under a tree and sit. Watching a squirrel go about his business for a while.

"I could be a squirrel," he decides, lifting his coffee to his lips.

"What, just concerned with your nuts?" Claire fires back and he laughs in to his foam cup.

"You know me well."

"It wasn't a long shot." She muses, a twinkle of mischief in her eye.

"Always looking for somewhere to bury em.. trouble is they're so big." He sighs.

She shakes her head at him, rolling her eyes. "I'm stunned you and your ego fit in that apartment."

"Its a tight fit but we manage." He waves his eyebrows at her and she purses her lips right back at him.

"Oh good, an endless innuendo conversation with Leon Kennedy, my favorite." She sighs, tilting her face to the sun.

"Hey, there was no innuendo there, that was just your dirty brain." He defends.

"I do not have a dirty brain."

"No? You took that towel off me this morning though, didn't you." He teases.

"You are so full of yourself, how do you function?" She looks mystified.

"Do you need a biology book and a diagram?" He torments her, and she shoves him with her hand.

"Quiet."

He gives her a little salute, their laughter fading away as his attention falls on the scampering squirrel again, going about his furry little business.

"I never really apologized.." He says suddenly, a few minutes later. Claire frowns and looks over at him.

"What for?"

"For... for what I did to you." hesitantly the words come out, he wasn't sure how she'd react. Her face falls and she looks down in to her coffee.

"Oh."

"I mean I did, a thousand times. But sorry is really easy to say, isn't it." He gazes at her intently, she doesn't look back at him. "You can say sorry over and over and really mean it, but not completely understand why."

Claire draws in a breath and runs a hand through her hair, looking away from him. "Leon.."

"I understand if you don't wanna talk about it. It's just.. been on my mind lately." he hitches a shoulder and watches her bite on her lower lip, her eyes narrowed against the sun as she looks at some horizon. "You deserved better than what I gave you."

"I trusted you." She says suddenly, looking back at him with a pain in her eyes he hadn't seen since that night. It makes his stomach knot up.

"I know you did.." he says quietly.

"You broke me that night, Leon." It's like the words just bubble up out of her. They'd never talked about it, not really. He'd crawled his apologies. She'd forgiven him. They'd moved on. But they'd never talked. In the face of that admission, he says nothing. He just listens, he owed her that. "I was so afraid, for so long, to get close to anybody. Every relationship I saw around me failed. People just got hurt. I was more afraid of getting hurt than I was getting eaten alive. And you.. I couldn't think of anybody I trusted more." The look she gives him is bitter and hurt.. and it hurts. He listens. "I trusted you with my life. I trusted you with my heart. I trusted you with my body." She shakes her head, her lip quivering in that way it did when she was upset. "I trusted you not to hurt me." She points at him, he feels it like an arrow through his heart. But he just listens. "And you made me feel like disposable trash, another notch on your bed post, you couldn't even remember who you were with."

Silence.

He finally looks away from her, a small nod as he stares down in to his coffee. Well, he'd wanted to talk about it. He'd wanted to let her say what she needed to say. There it was. In all its heartbreaking glory.

"And Helena tells me you're bedding different women every night. I hear it from everybody now. Chris talks about you like you're some legendary womanizer. People laugh about it. Leon Kennedy, the suave smooth talker that can charm any woman out of her panties." She sounded disgusted. "I wish I'd known that then. I wish I'd heard that gossip, then. I wouldn't have."

"I'm sorry." he meant it with everything he was. Looking back to her.

"And I forgive you. Because the thought of not having you in my life is worse somehow.. than feeling all that. That you used me."

"No." He says firmly, shaking his head and looking her in the eye. "I didn't use you, not ever. I wish I could explain what happened but I don't even know myself. When you told me.. that it was your first.. God." He lets out a small laugh, "don't think for a second I didn't appreciate the weight of that. What that meant. I wanted it to be perfect, because you deserved it all. I tried." He sighs. "I was so fucked up after Spain. Ada tripped me out over there, and it was like this.. fucked up, cat and mouse game we were playing after. That woman's like a poison dart to me, embedded in my skin." He didn't know if he was making any sense and he lifts his hand to rub his temple. "I don't know why I said her name. I wasn't thinking about her. I wasn't thinking about anything other than trying to keep my grip on the moment. Make it perfect. And.. I fucked it up.." he shrugs hopelessly. Looking at her.

"I don't regret many things in life, Claire." He says after a moment. "But I regret doing that to you more than you'll ever know. I never wanted that. I wanted you. And I fucked it up. I regret it every single day. And I guess I always wondered why you wouldn't just let things be like they were. It didn't really sink in to me... it doesn't matter how sorry I feel. At all. Because you gave me something so fucking precious, that you can't ever get back. And I ruined it. Sorry will never be enough."

He shrugs sadly, looking in to his cup before draining the last of it. "I know that now. I get it.. I get why you did the intervention. All of it."

Claire tugs at a few blades of grass, her chin resting on her knee as she listens. Silence falls over them again. The squirrel scampers past, blissfully oblivious to the turmoil going on between the two humans under his tree. Leon squeezes the two sides of the foam cup together and breaks the flimsy material, pulling it apart idly as words continue to evade both of them. Eventually, his phone rings. Rebecca, letting them know she was finished with Elizabeth. He tells her they'll be right there and hangs up, looking back to Claire.

"She's gonna wake her up." He says.

Claire just nods, getting to her feet and dusting grass off of her butt. He follows her back in to the building.

* * *

The procedure is a resounding success. Rebecca breaks it down for them on a white board with scans of Lizzie's brain before and after. He might not be a Neurologist, but he could see the differences between the two images even at a glance. The girls warned it might take a while for totally normal sleep to return, as her body adjusted to actually being able to switch off again. But given time, it should all be nothing but a distant, terrible memory.

There's a lot of hugs in that room, and a tearful eighteen year old that couldn't wait to see her Mom. To go home.

"I'll book us a flight out there," Leon smiles, ruffling her hair. He'd escort her right to her fucking doorstep to make sure she got there safely.

"Can we call her?" Elizabeth asks, clutching his arm excitedly. Her excitement is infectious, making the three adults grin. "Sure.. sweetheart, lets do it." He agrees.

He'd already put Alicia's number in his phone, thanks to the information Ada had left. So right there, in Rebecca chambers laboratory, they give her a call. He holds the phone to his ear, waiting for a response while Lizzie beams at his side and Claire and Rebecca watch, clinging to one anothers arms. After a few rings, there's a weary 'hello?'

"Hi, is this Alicia Evans?" he queries.

"It is, who's this?"

"My name is Leon Kennedy, I'm with the DSO based out of Washington D.C. I have some news for you about your missing daughter, Elizabeth?

There's quiet, and he hears the woman audibly swallow, possibly expecting the worst news. "Please don't tell me it's something terrible.. please.."

"Quite the opposite." He smiles, winking at Lizzie. "We've found her, Mrs Evans. We're going to bring her home."

He's never heard a noise like it on the other end of that phone, it makes him laugh. Part scream, part relief, part tears, a whole lot of love.

"Would you like to speak to her?" He asks.

Silly question. He hands the phone over to Lizzie and moves aside, standing to watch as one of the best feelings he's ever had wells up inside. While Mother and Daughter re-connect, he actually feels a lump in his throat. Crossing an arm across his stomach, he brings his other hand up to chew on his thumb nail. You wouldn't remove that smile from his face for a bit.

This was what it was all about. This was why he did what he did, and why he risked it all.

He feels a hand on his back and looks to his side to see Claire smiling up at him. She moves her arm around him and gives him a squeeze. He returns it, moving his around her shoulders, pulling her to him.

It's a moment he wishes he could freeze and hold forever.

* * *

When they arrive back at his apartment, the jovial mood doesn't go away. They order pizza and drink bad for you sugary sodas. Having a little celebration in front of funny movies as Elizabeth talks with such excitement about going home. He'd booked them a flight for the next day, leaving in the afternoon to go directly to Portland. He would deliver her to her doorstep as promised.

The sugar high gives way to a sugar crash, and Lizzie falls asleep right there on the couch. Naturally, for the first time in who knows how long. Leon carefully scoops her up, taking her in to his room and setting her down on the bed. He pulls covers over her and tucks some of her hair back, gazing at her for a moment or two. "Sweet dreams, kid." He smiles.

Standing up again, he returns to the living room, pulling his door up behind him and finding Claire cleaning away the pizza boxes and drinks cans.

"I can do that.." he tells her.

"I got it." She smiles back at him. "What time will you leave tomorrow?"

"Probably around 10, take a bit to get to the airport." He answers, sitting on the couch and slinging his arm over the back of it. It's idle conversation, two adults, living life. He supposed after this things would return to how they were. Claire would go home, he'd be here on his own again. Waiting for his next mission brief. He wondered what kind of warlord he'd have to fight next, it felt like a while since he'd used guns to take down anything.

The two of them watch TV for a while longer, before Claire decides she's exhausted and heads to bed also. Leaving him to make the couch his nest for the night. He grabs a couple of blankets and changes in to some sweats, lying there with one arm over his stomach and the other slung above his head, he listens to the vague noise of traffic down in the street below. The familiar sounds of people leaving the bar as it closed up for the night. He's beginning to drift off when the sound of his bedroom door opening attracts his attention, he glances over in the darkness. Eyes already adjusted to the light, he makes out Claire as she carefully shuts the door behind her, trying to make the 'click' as minimal as possible.

"What are you doing?" he whispers as she moves toward him. She was wearing nothing but one of his shirts. "Shirt thief." He adds. She reaches the couch and moves down to join him. A little frown creases his brow and he lifts the blanket for her to tuck under with him. "Well, hi." He smiles as she wordlessly settles herself beside him.

"Hey.." she whispers.

"You alright?"

"I was just thinking." She keeps her voice quiet, like they were two naughty kids trying to sneak around behind parents backs. "About earlier."

"Oh?" He puzzles.

"Thankyou."

"For what?

"For hearing me." She says softly.

His little frown lifts, and he nods. "I never wanted to hurt you."

"I know." She lifts her hand under the cover and brings it to his cheek, brushing her thumb lightly over stubble covered skin. He could feel the warmth of her body pressing against him, he'd be lying if he said it didn't fill him with want. "Do you think we could try again?" She whispers.

It makes him blink.

"We'll have to be quiet, of course.. don't wanna wake the kid." She says the words against his lips as she tentatively drapes her leg over his middle. For a moment, he's frozen in time, unsure of what to do or say. But his heart thuds in his chest and the blood starts rushing – somewhere. She's hesitant as she brushes her lips against his. Looking for his answer.

She gets it as he closes that fraction of a gap, drawing her in to a kiss full of passion and apology and need. His hand runs over that leg draped around his middle and he discovers that his shirt really is the only thing she's wearing. He gently grips her bare ass and coaxes her closer to him. It doesn't take too much to encourage her. She moves in to his lap and with both arms free he reacquaints himself with her body. It had been a long, long time. She had curves in all the best places, and he explores them like it was the first time all over again.

Her T shirt stays in place, so do his pants. In case they woke their guest. But it doesn't stop them. Lost in the moment. In the heat of one another. She's a little more in control, a little older, a little wiser. She knew her body now and it's hot as hell to watch her react and enjoy as he tucks his hand between them and lets his fingers brush over her already wet heat.

"You been thinking about me?" He whispers. She quietly mews her response, looking down at him through heavy lidded eyes. He reaches for her with his free hand and draws her back down to his lips, the kiss lust fueled at intense. She rolls her hips against his hand, moaning in to his mouth to muffle the sound. Fuck that was hot. He lifts his palm, giving her more to work against. He feels her legs tremble. Pulling herself away from the kiss she sits up, bracing her hands on his stomach and looking down at him through that mane of red hair. Even in the dark, it looked fucking gorgeous.

She reaches behind herself, brushing her palm over the hard tent in his sweatpants. It makes him growl and chew on his lip to keep quiet. Pushing back the elastic, she takes hold of him, wrapping her fingers around his length, getting a feel for him. His mind was a mess, but he didn't want to make more mistakes. Whispering to her that they should use something. She tells him its fine. Yeah. He was definitely going to lose his mind.

Theres a slight noise, and they freeze. His hands on her hips, just as she was positioning herself over him. They hold like deer in headlights waiting to become roadkill. But no interruption comes. Laughing quietly and returning their attention to one another, she rubs herself against him, tormenting them both, until finally she eases him inside.

His head drops back against the cushion and his fingertips dig in to her hips. He lifts his to her as she works him inside. They're quiet, but she still gasps, grasping the back of the couch as she takes each delicious inch. When he's buried inside her, she stills for a moment, and he runs his hands up along her legs and over her flat stomach. He didn't give a shit, he wanted that T shirt gone. He drags it upward and she lifts her arms obligingly. He peels it off and throws it aside, then sits up. Wrapping his arms around her to pull her flush to his chest and taking a handful of her hair, he tugs her head back and kisses her neck. She moans quietly, he can feel her quiver around him, her tight heat gripping him. He leaves his mark on her skin as she begins to move. A rock of her hips.

His hands are everywhere, grasping her perfect breasts, leaning her back she braces her palms on his thighs and keeps her hips moving as he kisses a valley between them. Then licks a trail back up to her collarbone. They return to a fierce kiss, full of fire as she rolls herself against him. Grinding, working toward pleasure he handed out freely. On her terms, at her pace, he lies back and watches as she works herself on him. He tucks a hand between them, adding friction. She comes undone, crumbling over him, collapsing to his chest. Her thighs quaking, hips jerking as she rode out her pleasure. He feels every moment of it, running his hands down her back to her ass.

When she stills, he moves them with ease. Turning her on to her back, tucking her legs behind his arms, he takes her. There's nothing subtle about it, caution thrown to the wind. He kisses her hard and fucks her harder. She clings to him, her arms wrapping around his neck, unable to do much more than just take it, she moans his name against his ear and she unravels again. Her climax triggers his, and he pours himself inside her. Collapsing over her. Whispering her name while brushing kisses along her shoulder.

Two thundering hearts. The past exorcised in sweat and hormones and pleasure. He releases her legs and she lets them fall to his sides. Their lips return to one another, a lazy, sated kiss.

Somehow, they manage to pull the blanket back over them. Then fall asleep like that, right there, lost inside her.

* * *

They're woken by a teenager clearing her throat. His head jerks up from Claire's shoulder and Claire giggles and hides her face. Light filled the room, the blinds were open, he'd never closed them last night. Leon chuckles. "I think she knows you're here." He whispers next to Claire's ear. She whines, giggling in to his chest.

"Nooooooo."

"It's alright, there's a blanket." He soothes. Looking up to Lizzie who stands in his bedroom doorway with her arms folded. "Uhhhh, this isn't what it looks like." He makes excuses.

"It totally is." Lizzie scoffs.

When did she go and get sassy? Leon purses his lips. "Um.." He looks down at Claire, "Help me out here?"

Claire just laughs, covering her face with her hands.

"Alright it totally is." Leon admits, looking back to Lizzie. "Could you, uh, give us a minute?"

"Sure. Gross." Lizzie makes a face and heads through to the kitchen. Although you could still see the living room from the kitchen, the girl busies herself making herself a cup of tea. Leon strategically organizes the blanket. They were disgusting adults, doing disgusting things. Falling asleep on a girl after sex is really ill advised. Its a situation, to say the least.

He manages to get Claire his shirt from the floor to cover herself with, and his pants pulled back up. Then together they scurry through to the bathroom and in to the shower.

Once in the shower, Claire falls apart laughing.

He can't help it, he does too.

"We are irresponsible, terrible people.." he chuckles, switching on the water once they're naked again.

"I'm never going to be able to look her in the eye again." Claire admits.

"I hope she didn't hear us." Leon makes a face.

Claire grabs his cheeks, tiptoeing and taking him by surprise with a kiss. He goes with it, bracing a hand against the wall, the other coming around to smooth down her back to her ass.

"I don't care if she did," Claire whispers against the kiss.

Honestly, neither did he.

With water raining down upon them, they steam up the shower even more. He pins her to the tile wall, taking her again.

It really had been the best 24 hours he could remember in a long, long time.

They emerge from the bathroom an hour later. Showered, shaved, primped and ready for the day.

"You gonna be here when I get back?" He asks, buttoning down a shirt.

"I have some things to do for work, but I could see you tonight?" She says, tying up her hair. He nods, finishing his buttoning and looping an arm around her.

"Gonna be a red eye back, won't be till late." He explains, "come over tomorrow?"

"Could do that."

"Or I could pick you up? Blow off work, we'll go raise some hell somewhere." He suggests.

"Oooh, take the bikes out?" She beams.

"That.." He kisses her forehead, "sounds like a plan."

"Get in a bar fight?" she laughs.

"That is all you." He laughs, letting her go and checking the time. "Fuck, we better go."

He tugs on his new leather jacket and heads out to find Lizzie eating cereal and watching cartoons. In the arm chair. She was not touching that couch.

"You good to go, kiddo? We're running late." He grabs his keys and his phone and everything he'd need for the short round trip.

She didn't really have anything to take, she was wearing Claire's clothes and Claire had told her she could have them. Talk about travelling light.

"Oh, I wonder why that is?" Lizzie had developed teenage sass overnight. Leon narrows his eyes at her.

"Rebecca turned you in to a teenager didn't she.. I'm going to have to have words." He teases.

Lizzie grins.

Goodbyes suck. Claire and Lizzie have theirs in the apartment. Claire needed to finish getting herself ready and had to head in to work. She was in the midst of organizing an aid mission to Lanshiang. The place was still in ruins, China attempting to rebuild. They needed all the help they could get. Leon wasn't sure when she flew out, but he'd find all that out when he got home, maybe he'd even see if there was some way he could go too. He felt half responsible for the state the place was in, he crashed a plane in to it after all.

There's tears and hugs, and Leon pauses to kiss Claire goodbye also.

She wishes him a safe trip.

How had everything just fallen in to place?

* * *

"I told you it'd be cool if you kissed her." Lizzie tells him as they wait to board their flight out on the tarmac. They'd gotten out there and now there was some kind of delay. It looked like they might have to head back inside, but they were waiting to find out. He clutches his coffee and smirks at the girl standing opposite him.

"Yeah yeah, well you have an unfair advantage." He winks at her.

"Had."

"Had?" He queries, "you mean.. you cant like.. see shit anymore?"

Elizabeth shrugs her shoulders, wrinkling her nose a bit. "Not really. I don't know. Like I used to just pick up on things, it would just be there in my head. Like I knew. But since I woke up, been pretty quiet in here." She taps the side of her head.

He offers her a little smile. "Well that's good, right? Actually stand a chance at a normal life."

"Yeah, I hope so." She looked so full of that hope. Her eyes were bright, her hair clean and brushed and beautiful. She looked like any other normal teenager, excited about what the future had in store. Mostly excited about seeing her Mom.

"You'll be alright," he says softly, "and if you ever need me, you got my number. You know where I am."

"I know." She smiles, then tiptoes, moving her arms around his neck.

He returns the gentle embrace, lifting one hand to the back of her head and just holding her.

"You saved my life, Leon." She says a little tearfully against his shoulder.

He draws in a breath. "Y'know.. I think you kinda saved mine too." He admits quietly.

Someone yells an announcement he doesn't quite catch, and their embrace parts. He brushes a tear away from her cheek.

"Got a whole flight to get through kiddo." He chuckles.

"I know. It's just.." she looks around, "feels like a goodbye already."

He nods. "Never goodbye. Just see you later."

Her face lights up in a smile. "I almost forgot.. I saw something."

"Oh?" He frowns.

"Mm, in a dream."

"What's that?"

"You, happy.." She lifts her hand, shielding her eyes from the sun and shifting her weight to another foot, moving slightly to his side. "Just watch out for the lightning."

"I don't unders.."

The whistle of the silenced bullet comes a fraction before he's hit with a splatter of warm blood across his face.

The world stops.

He watches in shock as Lizzie crumbles in front of him, unable to move, unable to think. Just transfixed as the light dies in her eyes and blood pours from a perfect hole between them.

He was shaking. He felt like he was going to throw up. His ears were ringing.

She falls lifeless at his feet as a SWAT team surrounds him. Yelling at him to move away from the suspect.

Move away.

He can't.

He can't.


	13. What I Cannot Change

**Authors Note:** Short, sharp, shock to the heart. More on the way. Thankyou so much for the love notes

* * *

 **Wake.. from your sleep**  
 **The drying of your tears**  
 **Today we escape, we escape**

 **Breathe, keep breathing**  
 **Don't lose your nerve**  
 **Breathe, keep breathing**  
 **I can't do this alone**

 **Sing.. us a song**  
 **A song to keep us warm**  
 **There's such a chill, such a chill**

 **You can laugh**  
 **A spineless laugh**  
 **We hope your rules and wisdom choke you**

 **\- Radiohead**

* * *

The SWAT Team swarm around him, yelling, commanding him to step back and away from her lifeless body. Like it mattered any more. He knew what death looked like, he knew whatever threat they perceived her to pose was over now. He can't tear his eyes from hers, he can't move, like he was stuck in tar and his lungs filled with cement. Those emerald green windows to a troubled, innocent soul that had finally found hope. They were dull. Any chance she had, snuffed out.

What was he going to tell her Mother?

Elizabeth's Mother, who sat at home now after four years of waiting, excited for her baby daughter's return. A return he had promised.

They took it away.

"Mr Kennedy we're going to need you to step back." Screaming at him hadn't worked, Leon had just stood in a state of shock. So a well meaning member of the SWAT team tries a different approach, lowering the stance of his Assault Rifle and touching his fingers to Leon's chest.

His hand comes up on instinct, grasping the man's wrist and twisting violently, in a move faster than he can respond to, Leon snatches the rifle from his grip and draws it on him, right between the eyes. "What did you do?! WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO?!" He roars it in the man's face as his hands come up in surrender. Around him, Leon hears the multiple clicks of metal as an entire squad focus their attention on him. Yelling at him to put it down, not to do anything stupid.

The body of Elizabeth Eve Evans lies not four feet from him. Lifeless. Gone.

"Just following orders, Sir!" The man Leon has the gun pointed at answers. It's a din of noise around them, yelling, a stand-off. He hears a voice coming over the radio telling them to stand down. A lot of rules were being broken in this situation.

"She was just a kid.." Leon says bitterly. "Who's orders?"

Stammering.

"WHO'S ORDERS?!" He demands again, spitting out the words in rage.

"This was handed down from the Vice President himself, Sir. Neutralize the threat, once you had it subdued. We thought you.. we thought you knew."

Leon feels a fist clench around his heart, squeezing. His chest hurt. It physically pained him to draw in another breath. His hands shake, and he closes his eyes. A groan of a sound escaping him as he lets the rifle fall from his grip and clatter to the ground. He brings his hands to his face and turns away, dragging them through his hair as he takes no more than four steps and then drops to a knee. Bracing a hand on the cool tarmac to keep himself from collapsing under the weight of this. He'd brought her to an open area, given them the perfect setting to take her out. And he hadn't seen it coming.

They'd left this case entirely in his hands, but they'd decided to resolve it without so much as mentioning it to him.

He lets out a small choke, then drags in a painful lungful of air as someone grasps his arm. He lets them pull him back to his feet and wrench his hands behind his back. Slapping cuffs on him as 'a precaution'. He doesn't really hear what they're saying. He felt numb. As they move him toward a waiting black car, he can't take his eyes off of Lizzie. He didn't even get to say goodbye.

"I'm sorry, kid.." he whispers as they cover her with a white sheet.

"Mind your head." Someone tells him, ducking him down in to the back of the transport.

Sitting in a car with your hands cuffed behind your back wasn't the most comfortable of situations. But he sits there, staring a hole through the back of the seat in front of him. His mind replaying the moment over and over again. He could feel the splatter of blood on his face beginning to dry, hardening on his skin. He failed her.

Some voice in his head yells it at him on a loop. It was all for nothing, you failed her.

Arriving at the Benford Memorial Building, he's hauled out of the car by his elbow and led inside. Any other time, he'd be furious at being dragged in to a place where he was highly respected, in fucking handcuffs. But today? There's no fight in him. Nothing. He didn't care. He gives them no trouble as they escort him to the 10th floor, where he's eventually left on his own in a small, locked room with nothing but a table and chairs.

He sits. Head bowed, hair covering his eyes. The blood was beginning to itch.

"Leon.." Sherry's voice rouses him, he doesn't know how many minutes, or maybe even hours later. His head lifts and she stops in her tracks, taken aback by the look in his red rimmed eyes and the blood over his cheek and chin.

"You left him in those?" Another voice, familiar, speaks up. "Remove that at once, for goodness sakes." James Hoult demands.

Leon just sits as someone moves behind him and unlocks the cuffs.

"Don't do anything stupid." He's warned. Like they'd known that not telling him what they were planning on doing was a bad idea. Leon doesn't react at all. Doesn't give them a response. He's an island of nothing and nowhere.

"Are you okay?" Sherry asks, taking a seat at his side.

He doesn't answer. His eyes fixed on a small smudge in the center of the table. But he brings his hands up, putting them on it, his thumb rubbing a slight scuff on his right wrist.

"Get him something to clean his face, would you?" James mutters to someone. Then the older man takes a seat opposite him, clasping his hands together in front of him. "I'm terribly sorry about all of this, Mr Kennedy."

Leon doesn't move. Blink. Speak. Nothing.

"The order came from the Vice President, we had no time.."

Leon tilts his head slightly, looking to Sherry at his side. He wets his dry lips, before speaking for the first time since the airport. "Did you know about this?" He asks her specifically.

Sherry shakes her head. She looked sad, they'd all fought so hard for that kid. "I had no idea, they just called me in."

He returns the tiniest nod, then props his elbow on the table, bringing his thumb up to his lip, he chews on the nail as he looks at James.

"When did you know?"

"Last night." James begins to explain. "You have to understand our position, Leon. She was a highly dangerous matter of national security. A weapon like that cannot fall in to the wrong hands."

"She wasn't a weapon she was a kid." He fires back in a dull, lifeless tone. "A traumatized child. That some bunch of scumfuck scientists that may or may not have been paid off by the Government decided to experiment on. Decided to try and make in to some kind of psychic soldier that would win wars. They reaped what they sowed. What they created wasn't anything more than their own karma." He snarls.

"Mr Kennedy.." James sighs. "This was not a Government sanctioned project. But that's almost a moot point. She was like any other BOW."

"We fixed her, Rebecca Chambers reversed the damage.. she.."

"You cannot fix what she was, Mr Kennedy. Any more than you can change a Leopard in to a house cat. Something in that child made her able to withstand what they did to her and that makes.. made.. her a permanent threat."

Leon makes a scoffing sound, sitting back in his seat and letting his hands flop in to his lap.

"If she had fallen in to the wrong hands.."

"You make her sound like a chunk of meat."

"To a determined terrorist, that is exactly what she would have been." James persists. "You know that as well as I do. In fact, I'm surprised at you."

Leon's eyebrows jump, he almost laughs. But he had no humor left in him.

"You wanted to take a murderer back to her suburban town and just.. release her in to the community." James looks incredulous. "May I remind you she tore apart five grown men. Literally. Did you think she wouldn't have to answer for that?"

"It wasn't her."

"It was her, Leon. Let's not kid ourselves. It was a part of her."

"A dormant part."

"It was in her."

"It's in all of us.." Leon hisses back, "what do you think the people that fight in your wars do, pet the opposition to death?" he leans forward, narrowing his eyes at the older man. "You think when you send me out to 'neutralize a threat' I just use some harsh language and a few diagrams? No. I kill them."

James purses his lips and Leon half wants to get up and slap them right off of his face. "Elizabeth Evan's and her abilities could not be allowed back in to the population. There's no rehabilitating what she is capable of."

"Right, so just kill her. A kidnapped, tortured child. She never had a chance, but fuck her.. right? What do they chalk her body up to, collateral damage in the war against terror?" Leon scowls. "Her Mothers sitting home right now waiting for me to bring her back."

"That is unfortunate." James sighs. "Obviously it's terrible, it's a terrible tragedy for everybody involved..."

Leon makes a groan of a sound, looking away, catching Sherry's eye as she sat next to him, her arms folded around herself.

"Regardless of our personal feelings. The order came from above, and we are duty bound to follow those orders. The case is closed." James says firmly, as someone comes in to the small room with a cloth for Leon to wipe the blood off his face with. How nice of them. He takes it, not saying thankyou, and begins to do just that. "Unfortunately, you also failed to inform us of your intentions, or that you had even had Miss Evan's treated by Miss Chambers."

Leon pauses, staring at him.

"You told attending paramedics and police at the scene that you had fought off and killed the BOW responsible for the murders, and you neglected to file a report with us."

"No offence, but the welfare of a child was higher up my priority list than fucking paperwork." Leon snarls.

"That's very noble." James levels on him. "It's also a complete violation of our rules."

"So fire me." Leon grits his teeth. "Fire me, and I can go put my talents somewhere they can actually do some good."

"We won't be releasing you from your contract Leon.." James chuckles, shaking his head. "You can be very dramatic sometimes. We will however be suspending you for one month without pay, after such time, you will undergo an evaluation. Physical and mental, to assess your suitability for returning to duty."

Leon stares at him.

"You can't do that.." Sherry defends.

"I assure you I can." James smiles back at her. "Your talents do not put you above disciplinary action, Mr Kennedy."

"Then suspend me too!" Sherry gets to her feet, "I worked the case with him. I knew what was happening."

"Miss Birkin, why do you think we called you in?"

Leon's eyebrows snap up and he sits forward. "Don't. Don't make her pay for my decisions."

"Too late." James sighs, taking off his glasses to polish them. "You are both adults. Miss Birkin is old enough and wise enough to have known what she was getting in to. You will both serve suspension under the same terms."

Leon grits his teeth, about to say something, but Sherry stops him. Putting her hand gently over his.

"It's okay." She sighs.

"It's not okay, it's bullshit. You assign me to a case and then don't like how I handle it.. funny how you don't mind how I handle any other cases though." Leon spits, "when it gets you the results you want."

James sighs deeply, like the conversation was beginning to annoy him. "Mr Kennedy we have the result we wanted here, too. You disobeyed clear rules. You will serve the punishment."

"Why didn't you tell me? I don't give a fuck about the suspension, you think a month without putting my life on the line is some kind of punishment?" He laughs. "I just want to know, you came in here apologizing. You got the order last night. Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because you would have told her." James looks steadily back at him. "Lets not make this more personal than it has to be. As far as we're concerned – officially – you befriended and brought the target to a suitable location for us to neutralize. It's a win, win. Another job well done for your record."

"A record with a suspension on it." Leon snorts.

"Well. If we all agree to.. agree." James smiles tightly. "You will serve it, and we'll omit it from your permanent record."

"So it's cool to lie when we all get what we want?" Leon asks.

James simply smiles, giving him a small nod. "I'm glad we all understand each other. Go home, Mister Kennedy. Go home, get some sleep, take a vacation. This case is closed."

With that, James places his glasses back on his face and gets to his feet, heading out without a further word.

Leon gazes at the spot where he sat. He felt completely numb, like someone had drained all the blood from his body. He wanted to yell. He wanted to cry. He wanted to punch something in the face.

"Who's going to tell her Mother?" Sherry whispers sadly.

He swipes a hand through his hair, closing his eyes. "I'll do it." He answers quietly.

They sit. In silence. A moment for the bright, hopeful young girl they couldn't save. Red tape and rules. You're just another brick in the wall.

He leaves the building under the scrutiny of every pair of eyes that saw him brought in in handcuffs. The gossip would be rife – he was fairly sure somewhere, Helena Harper would be throwing a party. Knowing his luck, by the time he came back to duty she'd probably have been promoted to head of the Division or something. If that happened, he really would quit. Maybe his energies would be better spent with the BSAA, or hell, Even working alongside Claire with TerraSave. There were plenty of other places he could offer his skillset to that didn't involve quite as many reems of red tape and politics. He glances at the portrait of Adam Benford in the lobby of the huge building, he was positive that man would never have ordered the murder of a little girl.

Positive.

Outside, he gives Sherry a gentle hug goodbye and they get in separate cabs. On the way home, that numb feeling persists. Every time he closes his eyes he sees the light die in hers. Sees her expression change as that bullet pierced her brain. From light and hope and excitement at the prospect of seeing her Mother – to nothing. Gone. Expressionless. He leans his head against the cab window, gazing out at the streets rolling by. Maybe he'd return to Colorado, see his place there. He hadn't been there in months. There was a 1972 Grand Torino sitting in the garage there in dire need of work, he'd been planning on fixing and restoring that thing for a couple of years now and had never had the time. Maybe he finally would.

Right now he couldn't muster the enthusiasm for very much, though. Right now, he had the worst job in the world in front of him. He had no idea how he was going to do it – how he was going to tell this poor woman he'd let her down. That her baby was dead. It forms a lump in his throat every time he starts piecing the words together in his mind. It was best it came from him, though – and work had not argued with that. His last official duty before he was suspended for the first time in his career.

They didn't even suspend him when he went against orders and ditched his citizenship to fight in the Eastern Slav Republic. Not even a slap on the wrist. Nothing. Just another job well done.

They really did pick and choose.

He pays his driver and drags himself up the three flights of stairs to his apartment. Letting himself in and closing the door behind him. For a while, he just stands there. Gazing at the empty bowl of cereal the teenager had left on his coffee table. She'd been eating fucking cereal in that armchair just hours ago, excited, giving them shit about having sex on the couch. Being a sassy teen. Now she was dead.

His eyes lift to the couch, still with a blanket on it. Just hours ago he and Claire had been so fucking happy. Making plans. The past finally laid to rest. Now the child they'd tried so hard to help and to nurture and to fix, was dead. In some morgue somewhere, probably to be picked apart by more fucking scientists. He wasn't stupid, he knew the American Government wouldn't be able to help themselves, they'd have to know. Have to find out what it was in her genes that had made her able to withstand what was done to her, when nobody else could. They'd take her blood, dissect her, turn her in to a collection of tissue samples and test tubes and Petri dishes. A fascinating study.

Not the sweet, hurting, fragile but so strong – beautiful little girl he'd come to care about.

He feels that lump in his throat again, but it's followed swiftly by something else. A pure, vicious, blinding rage.

In five long steps he's across the living room and he snatches a metal baseball ball propped against a bookcase up from the floor. His yell of pain would be unmistakable to anybody with a heart, as he swings it. Smashing the items on a shelf and sending them flying. He twists and crashes it through the glass top of his coffee table, shattering it and setting about breaking the wood with determined, furious swings. He wasn't a man that ever lost his cool.

But here he was, losing it.

Out in the hall, neighbors would emerge from their apartments to look in worry at his door. Smashing, breaking, rage.

He batters the side of his fridge, the solid object giving him a sturdy focus for the bitterness and anger he felt. He clenches his jaw, closes his eyes and strikes it until his hands hurt from gripping the bat. With a final, frustrated yell he turns and hurls the bat across the room, sending it smashing in to more pointless stuff, before it clatters to the floor.

He slumps against the beaten fridge, and slides down it. Ending up on the floor himself. He sits, staring at nothing. His chest heaving from the exertion. Tears were running down his face, but he wasn't crying. It was just pain, and betrayal. Sometimes the body just wept from the overwhelming feelings. You couldn't stop it. His palms throbbed, he gazes at them.

What use was he? If he couldn't even keep an innocent child alive? If the very people he worked for cared more about what was in a report, than a life?

He reaches over to the cupboard under the sink and drags open the door. Digging out a hidden bottle of Jack Daniels. He unscrews the cap and takes a long drink. The alcohol burns his throat and brings him back to the world a little. That familiar feeling of warmth spreading through him. He takes another drink, choking on it, he wipes the back of his hand over his mouth and sets the bottle down at his side, cap discarded. He digs out his phone from his pocket and leans back heavily against the fridge, drawing his knees up.

Scrolling through, he finds Alicia's number.

His heart had never felt so heavy. Not ever.

He sniffs. Sighing. Swiping his thumb and forefinger under his eyes to dry them a little and pinching the bridge of his nose to get himself to focus.

"Ugh.." he grumbles. He presses 'Call' and lifts the phone to his ear.

Her voice. Her excited voice. Asking when they were getting in.

He runs his hand over his face.

"Mrs Evans I'm.. I.." his voice was wavering and she senses it. "I have some bad news."

Her reaction.

He would never forget it as long as he lived. He bows his head and listens, quietly explaining as best he can. If he had to list the worst moments of his life, this one was up there.

Way up there.

* * *

Claire had seen it on the news while at the TerraSave offices. An 'Incident' at the Washington D.C Airport with a BOW known to be the killer of five well respected Scientists. News channels were the worst, they spat out lies as fact and were clueless. Fed what the Government wanted people to know, not what was real. Everybody in the Bio Terror world knew that, the level of cover up sometimes was sickening.

She'd watched. She'd known. She'd fought back her own tears. She'd tried to call him multiple times but his phone seemed to be off. There was no mention of him on the news programs, just that it was a joint venture between a police SWAT team and the DSO. There was some shaky cellphone camera footage, but they'd blurred out his face. She knew the jacket anywhere. She'd been with him when he bought it to replace the one that was torn.

Claire had excused herself from Lanshiang aid planning and gotten a cab. Arriving at his apartment to find a group of worried looking neighbors.

"What happened?" she asks them, approaching his door.

"I don't know, there was a lot of noise though, we've knocked.. no answer." A woman explains.

Claire nods. "He... there was a death.. in the family. You can go back inside." She offers them smiles.

There's a lot of 'Im sorry to hear that's and she accepts them graciously, waiting for them all to leave before she pulls a pin out of her hair and uses it and nail file from her purse to pick his lock. It wasn't difficult. The lock gives and she lets herself inside, pushing the door up. She inhales sharply at the sight of his place. He'd trashed it, and the culprit – a metal baseball bat – lay a couple of feet from the door.

"Leon?" She calls out softly. Stepping further in, she takes off her purse. Then she spots him, laying on the kitchen floor beside an empty bottle of whiskey.

"Oh god.. Leon.." she rushes over and drops to her knees beside him, picking up the bottle and tossing it away, she cups his cheeks in her hands. "Leon, can you hear me?" She taps the side of his face. A lot of alcohol after a week stone cold sober would have hit his system like a freight train, it could even be life threatening. A panic sets inside her. "Baby, open your eyes." She cooes. "It's me, Claire. I need you to wake up."

Nothing.

She gets to her feet, dousing a tea towel in cold water and dropping back down beside him. She drapes it over his forehead and takes his pulse. Still good and strong. So, she slaps him.

It does the trick, his eyes blearily open and he mumbles her name.

"I'm here." She says softly, "can you sit up?"

He groans, his head was spinning. He felt like he was moving through a thick, miserable fog. As she helps him to sit back up again, memories of the call with Lizzie's Mother come flooding back. It's too much. He gathers her up in his arms and just holds her, burying his face in the crook of her shoulder and neck. Breathing her in, letting the pain of it out.

She holds him in return, as tight as she can, closing her eyes. Rubbing his back in some attempt to comfort. His anchor.

She'd never seen him broken. It scared her to death.


	14. Rescue Me

**Authors Note:** Phase 2.. down the rabbit hole we go.

* * *

 **Yes there's a lot we can**  
 **We can learn from this loss**  
 **Learn not to let it fall**  
 **Around our ears**  
 **Don't fall in love with the**  
 **With the way things were**  
 **It'll fuck up your mind**

 **Don't give in**  
 **Don't you dare quit so easy**  
 **Give all**  
 **That you got on the soul**  
 **Don't say**  
 **That you want it forever**  
 **I know, I know**

 **\- Snow Patrol**

* * *

There's no telling how he would have made it through the next 24 hours if it wasn't for her. It was a little like once the flood gates opened, he couldn't keep twenty years of trauma from crashing down on his head. Every mistake, every life lost, every time he had blood on his hands. Every wound nursed, every moment he faced his own death. All of it, collapsing on top of him and impossible to bear. He'd finished that phone call – somehow. Still, the pain he felt was nothing compared to what that poor Mother was now going through. He drank the rest of that bottle to escape. It had hit him like a truck, his system free of alcohol for a week and suddenly drowned in it, it didn't know how to react.

So he'd just slipped in to unconsciousness, there on the kitchen floor of his wrecked apartment. He didn't care about things, it was all just 'stuff'. Arbitrary, replaceable. Nothing could bring her back.

But maybe Claire could salvage what was left of him.

He clings to her like she's his last link to the world, and she holds him in return. She cries with him, she'd grown fond of that kid over those few days too. They'd forged a bond and it broke her heart that all their efforts were for nothing – that their own Government, who were supposed to look out for its citizens, decided she was better off dead. It was cruel of them not to tell him. But then if they had, who knows how things would have played out. Leon was known for being the swift sword of justice sat at the Presidents right hand, but also had the strongest sense of morality she'd ever met in a man. If he had seen an injustice there, he would have gone to war to stop it. They likely knew that, so they took the decision from his hands completely.

And this was why Claire Redfield could never follow in her brothers – or indeed Leon's footsteps. When you dealt in death, you dealt in politics.

After a while, she'd gotten up and fetched him some water. He was filthy drunk, slurring, so she began the process of diluting the damage and sobering him up. It was going to be a battle, but it was one she took on out of love. Yeah, she loved him, for her sins. It was a love that came in varying forms – he'd been everything from a best friend to a savior, to her first, to her worst. Back to friend, confidant, teacher.. now lover, she supposed. She wasn't sure what they had, it had all happened so fast and there had been no time to think it over. She just knew she loved him, and seeing him like that hurt her heart. In her mind, it was fine to not be strong all the time. A lesson she wished her brother would learn too. It's alright to be human, to fall apart sometimes. Especially in the wake of the things they saw.

The things they did.

She gets the glass of water down him, and helps him to his feet. Leading him through to his bathroom and the shower, he follows her like a ghost. Quiet, sad, haunted. She turns on the water and gets it to a decent heat, then steadily undresses him. She hangs his jacket on the door, throws his clothes in the hamper, then carefully takes off her own.

There's nothing sexual about it. Not a thing. She guides him under the water and uses a sponge to wash the rest of Lizzie's blood from his neck. Leon stands, hands braced against the wall and his head bowed, the shower water plastering his hair to the sides of his face. She takes gentle care of him. Like she could wash it all away.

She reaches to switch off the water, but the shower had had the desired effect. It had brought him around a little, melting away some of the fog in his brain. He stops her, loops his arms around her, holds her to him. Just holding, nothing more. Just comfort. Solace. Years of being a rock for one another. It's love, in whatever form it took.

Eventually he releases her and she finally turns off the rain, reaching for towels and wrapping him up, followed by herself. He manages to dry off and pull on his own sweatpants, and she gets him another glass of water. With that drunk, they settle on his bed.

He sleeps. While he does, she strokes his back, offering what strength she could even now.

Once he's snoring very lightly, she gets up again. Heading out in to his wrecked living room and beginning to tidy things away. She salvages what she can, placing things back where she remembered them going. Then carefully sweeps up broken glass and splintered wood. Trying not to make too much noise, although he was in a deep sleep and likely wouldn't wake until morning. She ends up with a full trash bag of broken items and shards of glass and wood. Placing it by the door. He would need a new fridge, he had beaten the shit out of it and it was making a strange noise. The last thing they needed was to die in an electrical fire, so she unplugs it, powers it down. It's not like he kept much in there anyway.

Lastly, she picks up the baseball bat, propping it back against the book case and surveying the apartment. Her eyes fall on the couch where just last night they'd buried the past. A little smile passes over her lips. She wasn't going to let him sink in to this sadness, he was too good for it. He deserved so much more than that. With that resolve in mind, she flicks off the light and returns to his bedroom. Changing in to one of his t shirts, she gets in to bed beside him. He grumbles but doesn't wake, turning and draping his arm around her. It's a nice weight to bear, and she falls asleep running her fingers over his hand.

It's dawn when he wakes. That electric morning light making the room a kind of blue. He blinks, his eyes felt like they had sand in them and his head was pounding. Acknowledging his hangover is second to the ache in his bladder though, and he forces himself up and to his bathroom. The term 'Piss like a racehorse' was coined for moments like these. It's a kind of blissful release.

Once that's taken care of, he stares at himself in the mirror for a moment. Had he showered? His hair was a ridiculous mess, sticking up at weird angles. That told him he'd gone to bed with it wet. And the blood was gone. And he didn't stink. He glances toward the door and scratches the back of his head, trying to remember. He had a vague memory of just holding her under the fall of water. God he hoped he hadn't tried anything more, sex that drunk would just have been an embarrassment. He was fairly sure that hadn't happened though.

He brushes his teeth to get rid of the furry feeling in his mouth, then pads out to find something to cure this hangover with. Creeping through in to his kitchen, he pauses, his brain a bit slow on the uptake. The place was cleared. No broken anything.

Claire Redfield was an angel.

He rummages in cupboards and finds some painkillers, filling a glass with water and knocking it back, he starts coffee. Noticing the fridge is dead as a doornail. He didn't regret it, unleashing that fury had probably been the healthiest thing he had done yesterday. Getting it out was better than bottling it up, if he'd held on to that, he was fairly sure he would be an even worse person to be around. But as he stands and waits for coffee to brew, the memories return piece by piece. That phone call. Alicia's voice. The splatter of Lizzie's blood over his face. Leon lifts his hands, running them through his hair and over his face. The heavy heart still sitting like a stone in his chest.

"How are you feeling?" Claire's gentle voice drifts over to him and he lifts his head, looking at her as she emerged from the bedroom in one of his shirts.

"Like.. dogshit. If I'm honest." He sighs, offering her a small smile in return. "Thanks for cleaning all that shit up, you didn't have to do that."

"What friends are for." She smiles, sweeping her red hair to one side and arriving next to him, she gets them some mugs for the almost brewed coffee. They'd have to have it black, but that was okay. He usually drank his black anyway and she didn't mind it, she wasn't a Latte girl. "You're going to need a new fridge though."

He nods idly, scratching his fuzzy chest. "Well, plenty of time on my hands to go get a new one." He sighs.

Claire gives him a curious look.

He shrugs. "Work suspended me." He blinks when he says it, because it sounded so strange. In his entire career he'd always been the golden boy, the charmed one, the one people wanted to please. Being in trouble seemed really out of place. Especially when he didn't actually feel like he'd done a goddamn thing wrong.

"They did what?" Claire looks as disturbed as he felt.

"Yeah, didn't like how I handled the case. Didn't get reports in on time. Red tape, bureaucratic bullshit. So I'm suspended. One month." A little frown creases over his brow. "They strung up Sherry too."

"That's ridiculous." Claire objects, "you were trying to do what was best for a child. They took it all out of your hands but expected you to have paperwork at the ready?"

He shrugs, shaking his head. "I think they just need to make an example of us. Someone needs to be in trouble for not outright killing her the second we found out it was her. I don't know."

He sighs and moves out of the way as she takes over coffee making duty. Silence falls over them for a little while, he watches as she stirs in some sugar, the chink of the teaspoon against the mug always made him feel a little weird. Like nails on a chalk board to some, he supposed.

She hands him a mug and he takes it gratefully, blowing steam off the top and taking a sip.

"So what are you going to do?" She asks. Keeping him moving forward seemed like the best tactic. Look to the future, even if it was the next ten minutes. Just keep going. Don't fall backwards in to that hole.

"Might head back to my place in Colorado." He mumbles over the rim of his mug. "Got a car there I've been meaning to fix up forever." He takes another sip, then "might do me good to get away from this shit for a while."

"That sounds like a good idea," she smiles.

He lifts his eyes to her, "you could come with me?"

She can't help it, a tiny blush rises in her cheeks. Knowing he wanted her around made something feel fuzzy and good inside. "I wish I could. But I fly out to Lanshiang next week." She sighs.

Leon hesitates, looking thoughtful. "What are you doing over there exactly?"

"Well, they swept the city. The infected are all cleared. There's just major rebuilding efforts going on, half the buildings were destroyed, a lot of people homeless. So we're taking them clothes and food, medical supplies. There's a base camp across the river where they're taking care of people. Just.. going to see what I can do." She shrugs. Tall Oaks had been wiped off the map, there was nothing anybody could do there. It was as forsaken as Raccoon City. But Lanshiang – it sounded like something could be saved. The airborne virus had dissipated, the infected cleared – which was impressive. China really wanted to hold on to their city and rebuild. Unlike America, which just seemed to like blowing shit up when it got too much to handle.

"I feel responsible," he says quietly, looking in to his mug.

"Don't, you didn't cause that horror." Claire shakes her head.

"I didn't help it, either." He reasons. "I crashed a plane in to some of those buildings."

"Because you're a trained passenger jet pilot and should have known better?" she asks.

He considers this. He could fly helicopters and light aircraft. A small plane would have been fine. "Well, no. But I could have done better."

"Don't do that." Claire places her hand on his arm. "Don't punish yourself for split second timing and doing the best you could. I don't know many people that could do what you did and come out of it alive."

"Lucky I guess.." he grumbles. "And it wasn't just the plane, it feels like we destroyed the whole place."

"Did you?"

He shivers, remembering. Staring in to his mug. "I just remember shit burning, everywhere. Going up that skyscraper and looking down and just seeing.. hell."

"You didn't do that." She says gently.

"There were people we could have helped."

"Think how many more would have died if you had just let Simmons rampage through that city."

He sighs.

"You stopped him. You put an end to his madness.. it was him that caused that destruction. Not you."

"I feel like that whole mission was a failure from start to finish." He admits quietly. "Couldn't save Tall Oaks. Couldn't save the President. Couldn't save Helena's sister." He takes another sip of his coffee. "If Benford was still alive, I think Lizzie would be."

Claire puts her mug down and lifts her hands to his face, drawing his attention right to her.

"Don't. Don't take all that on. You don't deserve it." She says sternly.

"I don't?"

"You don't."

He swallows, guilt ate him alive sometimes. Survivors Guilt, they called it. It was a common trauma that effected those that got out of situations others died in. He knew the terms. But it didn't make it any easier to accept.

"What's done is done. You do so much good.." she continues, "you're a hero to this stupid world of ours. There are people alive because of you. There is a city salvageable because of you. There's hope.. because of you. Don't focus on the things that went wrong. Focus on the people grateful to be here because you're brave enough to fight for them."

He searches her eyes. "Why are you so good to me?" He rumbles after a moment or two.

"Because." She answers simply, with a little shrug of her shoulders.

He chuckles. "That's not an answer."

"Well it's the best you're getting." She winks at him. She wasn't telling him it was because of the dreaded L word.

His stomach grumbles and the need for food to mop up the last of the alcohol becomes a priority. With that in mind, they finish their coffees and dress. He tugs on faded jeans and sneakers, a white long sleeve T shirt which he layers over with a black regular t shirt, and tops it with a black beanie. Most days he went for smart casual. Now he was suspended? He was going for casual as fuck. Claire stops him by the door, adjusting his beanie for him so his hair 'looked cute'. He can't help his amused grin.

"You're really channelling Kurt Cobain today, it's pretty hot." she comments.

"Now that's a compliment!" he laughs, smacking her ass as she moves past him through the door in to the hallway. She yelps and scolds him. She looked pretty hot herself, in white jeans, red tank top and a white shirt knotted over it.

They walk to a diner near by and he buys her breakfast. He eats practically his bodyweight, having not stomached a single thing yesterday. They enjoy the food, they talk about nonsense. Steering well away from the end of the world and the traumas that plagued them. It felt good to get away from that part of his head for a while. The dangers of sinking in to the quicksands of misery all too real when you dealt with PTSD on a regular basis. Claire was like a guiding angel, moving him to other things. To laughter. Somehow, she worked her magic.

They leave the diner and don't return to his place. Instead, they wander the city. Something he hadn't done in so long he couldn't remember the last time. Just stopping in stores, like a normal human being. They end up with a few bags of things and eventually arrive at a movie theatre. Picking a film, getting popcorn and soda. Something else he hadn't done in forever.

It was a good day. Something he had so sorely needed. To remember why he fought, to remember he had a life too and it was okay to live it. That he had to go on, even if sometimes things fucking sucked beyond the telling of it. Lizzie is never far away from his mind that day, but he sees her smile. Hears her sass, telling him to stop moping around.

He still wondered what she meant by the lightning.

They return to his place after the movie and he orders a new fridge and coffee table from some online store or other. He wasn't fussy. Claire cooks them dinner and he discovers she's a really, really fucking good cook. How had he not known that after all these years? He supposed they'd never spent any real time together, just endless phone calls and fleeting moments. The more time he spent with her, the more he felt like he never wanted it to end.

She stays.

Their hands clasp together above her head, fingers entwined as he moves steadily over her. A delicate kiss. Bodies working as one. Slowly, tenderly. He loves her like he should have all those years ago, and this time, he doesn't ruin it.

She lies naked against him in the warmth of their afterglow, as his hand trails idly back and forth along her lower back. He's lost in thought, gazing at the shadows on his ceiling.

"What are you thinking about?" She says quietly, resting her chin on his chest and reaching up to tuck some of his hair back out of his eyes. His brows jump and he bites his lower lip, moving his gaze down to her.

"I'm thinking.." he begins carefully, "that I wanna come to Lanshiang with you."

She lifts her head a little, a small frown on her face. "Seriously?"

"Seriously." He nods.

"You really want to see all that again?" She was a little bit worried it would bring back too many bad memories.

"I do." He was sure, he'd been thinking about it most of the day. "So many times I just.. go, do my job, leave behind the mess for people to clear up." He shrugs, "I feel like I can help make a difference. If China wants to rebuild, not give up on it's city. A city I helped turn to ash. Then I should help them pick up the pieces."

"You don't have to." She whispers, "you don't owe anybody anything."

"No I know.." he nods a little, "I want to. I actually think it'd be good. To see them rebuild."

She smiles at him, rubbing her hand over his chest. "Then I'll speak to the team going over. I don't see why they'd turn down the extra hands. Especially not yours."

He nods, quietly thanking her with a kiss. He wasn't a guy that was particularly good at sitting on his hands. This way, he could still do some good. And had to admit, he was intrigued to see the place again. He'd never returned to a place that had put him through that kind of ordeal before, maybe it would be a lot. Maybe there'd be hard to handle memories. But he wanted to do it. In the wake of losing Lizzie, he felt like he had to restore the balance somehow. Put some good out there. Because right now he felt like all he did was deliver people to their deaths.

* * *

 **Yakushima, Japan**

They thunder down the side of a mountain, hearts pounding in their chests so hard they felt they might burst. Air up here was thin and it made your lungs burn. Gravity took control of you, after a point, and you couldn't stop. They narrowly avoid crashing in to trees that stuck out of the ground at weird angles and somehow manage to not break their ankles as rocks give way underneath them on this mad scramble. Behind them, the shrieks of the things they'd discovered in those caves. But they weren't what worried them most, it was the hollers of the men that hunted them and the barks of the dogs that tracked them. That had a purpose. That wanted them alive.

"Chris look out!" Jill screams at him as she grabs a thin tree trunk to keep herself from crashing off the edge of a sudden cliff face that came out of nowhere. Chris was a step behind her, and a second too late. "NO!"

He tries to stop, but his sheer bulk and the force of gravity send him over the edge in a skid of rocks and tumbling debris. She throws herself forward, wrapping her ankles around the slim tree and reaching for him. He'd grabbed the edge, and some roots dangling out of the crumbling earth. He reaches back, grabbing her wrists. He's so much bigger and heavier than her but they have no choice. He climbs, she lets out a moan of pain as her ankles grip that tree to keep her balanced. He manages to pull himself up and for just a second, they sit back, looking over the edge.

Behind them, dogs barked and men yelled.

Dead end.

Jill looks up and then around herself as Chris wraps his badly gashed hand in a strip of gauze. Flint cut like a knife and it crumbled from the edge of this mountain in abundance. If only they had some rope, some climbing gear, some anything. One wrong decision and the mission turned to shit, it was the world they lived in.

No time. No hope.

She throws up an arm to protect herself as a salivating, snarling dog arrives at her side. It's breath smelled like rotten meat. Behind him, not more than a few steps, yelling men with guns. They're caught. They're exhausted. They raise their hands. Surrender wasn't a word often in their vocabulary, but they were all out of options. These men knew the territory, knew the layout of the land, and they had herded them here. To the edge of the world, at least that was how it felt. Jill spoke the language, and shouts back at them not to shoot, that they surrendered.

They're pulled to their feet and their hands are tied firmly behind their backs, dirty rags shoved in to their mouths. Their bodies are searched right there on the cliff edge. Weapons – what remained of them – taken. They even find the small knife strapped to the inside of Jill's calf. Chris snarls as they put their hands on her, searching more intimately than they needed to. He surges forward in a bound and gagged attempt to get them to stop, but he stops in his tracks as Jill's own knife is held at her jugular vein. He doesn't understand what they're saying to him, but he can tell by the look in Jill's eyes it's nothing good. She understood every word.

If he moved, they'd gut her and stuff her like a pig.

Once their captors are sure they have all their weapons, the slow, painful trudge back up the mountain begins. It's exhausting. Their legs burned and ached. The heat and humidity combined with no water in she couldn't remember how long, made Jill dizzy. It's almost a relief to get in to the cool cave entrance.

They're led down dark, hollowed out pathways carved directly in to the mountain. Eventually, they reach a properly lit tunnel and are forced along with guns and knives at their backs. It was a rabbit warren, a system of tunnels and caves hidden well by the greenery covered mountain. They pass through a chamber lined with skulls, and an alter with blood covering the surface. Jill feels a little sick.

Finally, they're all but thrown in to a room with four other members of their captured squad. The door is closed on them, the sound of a heavy lock echoing against the stone.

The place reeked of death.

For the second time in a month, Jill Valentine had been hunted. This time, she had no way out.


	15. All My Sins Remembered

**Authors Note:** I've had an awful migraine for 4 days. Apologies if its a tiny bit patchy. Send help and chocolate.

* * *

 **Disconnect and self destruct one b** **ullet at a time**  
 **What's your rush now, everyone will have his day to die**

 **If you choose to pull the trigger, should your drama prove sincere**  
 **Do it somewhere far away from here**

 **\- A Perfect Circle**

* * *

It felt strange to be going back, he'd be lying if he said there wasn't an uneasy feeling all knotted up in his stomach. Six months. Half a year since he and Helena left the rooftop of the burning Quad Tower in Lanshiang and escaped yet another nightmare. They'd made it to the safety of a nearby city, taking refuge in a hotel for the night while Ingrid Hunnigan worked tirelessly at home to get their names cleared enough that they could return to the USA. In the space of a few days, they'd been wanted for the murder of the President and faked their own deaths – been given new identities and managed to get to China. All of that had needed reversing and the Government had been reeling from the revelations about Simmons.

So they'd waited. He'd drunk himself to sleep for the two nights they were there, fixated on the news stations playing footage of the devastation. Every shot, every clip of the very human suffering that had happened around them, stuck the knife in to his heart. He couldn't help it, he always felt it. He'd never been more relieved to get on a plane and return to Washington D.C. At the time, he'd never wanted to see nor hear of the place again, he just wanted to log it in the back of his memory bank and move on.

Yet here he was – returning.

He's sat by a window of the passenger section of TerraSave's large cargo aircraft, Claire sleeping peacefully at his side. As always, she soothed his nerve. But as the pilot announces they're entering Lanshiang's airspace, he rouses from the almost doze he was in. Lifting his head and looking out of the small glass portal to the view below the clouds. He draws in a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment. The last time he'd seen that exact view, he'd been sitting across from Helena.. moments away from their flight turning to shit and having to land the thing himself.

His hand tightens a little around the arm of his seat, his jaw clenching. Why was it at the time these things happened, he was always cool and level headed and focused. But when he looked back on them, his stomach tangled itself into loops?

Another long, deep breath and Leon forces his eyes back open, peering out at the wispy clouds and the city below. From up here, it was hard to tell what kind of state the place was in. But there was no smoke, or billowing flame. That had to be an improvement.

"You okay?" Her voice brings him around from his thoughts and he turns a small smile to her, accompanying it with a little nod.

"At least its not on fire," he hitches a shoulder and she covers his hand with hers. "Don't really know what I was expecting." He adds, returning his gaze to the small window.

She leans over him, peering out too. The plane banks gently as she does and she almost ends up in his lap, making him grin. "Wait till we get to the hotel at least." He quips.

"Would have thought you'd be first in line to join the mile high club," she jokes. He gives her a sideways smirk and she rolls her eyes. "Unless you're already a member of course."

He pulls a face, rubbing his chin.

"Men."

"Hey, in my defense, it was on the way back from a total clusterfuck in Egypt and I was in full coping mechanism mode."

"Did you get caught?"

He smirks. "It was one of the crew."

She laughs. "Of course it was."

"But hey, if you wanna give it a shot, I'm game.." he shrugs and flashes her a cheeky smile. She blushes bright red and squirms in her seat, which was adorable. The fact she still got flustered by him was endlessly endearing.

"Behave," she scolds him gently, but adds in a trademark Claire wink to the deal. It makes him smile – she'd worked her magic again. Taking his mind off the memories and helping him through the moments. She did it effortlessly, half the time he didn't even realize that was what she was doing.

Everything with Claire seemed effortless. Like whatever this was they were now, it had just happened. No labels put on it, no demands made. They were just enjoying being with one another, it felt simple and easy. If she hadn't been around he might not have made it through the last week. Suspending him after the death of Lizzie would have been a recipe for him sinking in to a mire of drinking and misery. Instead, she'd kept him moving forward, brought his focus to other things. He hadn't touched another drink since that night. He'd wanted to, if he was honest, but her presence kept that particular demon at bay – and that could only be a good thing.

The plane banks again and they're told to buckle up because they'd be landing shortly and there was a little turbulence expected. He can't help himself, the words just slip from him. "Pretty sure any landing will be an improvement on the last one I made here."

She laughs gently at his side and links their fingers, holding on as they make the turn for the landing strip.

As they come lower over the buildings, he begins to make out the devastation that had ruined this city. There were towering apartment blocks with holes torn in the sides. Some of them nothing more than rubble, with cranes hovering over them attempting to clear the wreckage. He can make out the site where he crashed the plane and it sends a chill running up his spine. For the most part, they'd cleared it, but he could still make out the stacked shipping crates that had penned them in against that – thing.

Then, there it is, looming in the distance across the river. Still standing, surrounded by scaffolds and in the process of being rebuilt. The Quad Tower he'd thrown himself off of the side of, to protect Ada. A fact he had so far omitted to Claire. She didn't need to know that, in fact, he very rarely mentioned her name to Claire, for obvious reasons. As they glide past it, it's hard not to think about her though. About those hours he'd thought she was dead. How close he'd come to giving up – for just a heartbeat – as he lay there on the street with a hoard of the undead bearing down on him. For a single moment he'd wanted to stop fighting. But laying down and dying just wasn't his style. He'd forced himself up, grabbed his gun, brought Helena to her feet.

Then like some Guardian Angel, there she was. Ada hovering in a helicopter above him, taking out the infected that threatened them in their exhaustion. Saving his life all over again. How did she always do that?

That tower. It stood defiant. It had survived the worst thing that could happen to a city. He remembered looking down at the inferno below and wondering how any of them would survive that night. But here they were. The smallest smile passes over his face as the building moves out of sight and the cargo plane makes the smoothest landing Leon could remember being a part of in a very long time. Whoever the Pilot was, Leon was going to shake his hand.

Something he makes a point of doing once they're on the ground and beginning to unload the supplies on to trucks to take to the refugees camps.

Walking in to the camp itself is an experience like no other, and Leon had moved through some war zones in his lifetime. Some of the poorest, most underdeveloped countries and cities in the world were so often taken advantage of by power players in the Bio-Terror game, the people that lived in those places easy to take advantage of. To manipulate through money and promise or just plain dominance and control – after all, they had nothing to really fight back with. In the wake of the Plaga outbreak in Africa, Leon had been sent out along with a team to clear the remaining infected so that aid workers could move in to help survivors. He still remembered the smell of the place, things like that never really left you.

There was a smell of death in the air. The camp settled across the river from Tachi – the city that had the C-Virus dumped all over it. It was like you could clear the plague but you couldn't erase the memory. It hung in the air, heavy and thick. There were literally hundreds of displaced people, taking shelter in a mixture of cleared out dockland warehouses and tents erected by various worldwide aid groups. The respect Leon had for these people was immeasurable, he'd never thought too long and hard about the aftermath of these disasters, he was usually so busy trying to put his body and his mind back together in the wake of them. Seeing it now, the people that stepped in to help the victims rebuild were the true heroes. What they had managed to collectively pull together here was beyond impressive.

Alongside TerraSave, he counted five other organizations from around the globe. Everybody working together to help people they didn't even know or share a country with. It was inspiring, and he follows Claire's lead with enthusiasm. She moved through the place like a different person, suddenly in command and control. Confidently giving out orders as well as receiving them. With the victims, she was kind and compassionate, putting them at ease.

"Sometimes, all they want is someone to talk to." She explains with a small shrug as they move through to the medical unit. "These people have had their entire lives ripped out from under them, some of them lost their whole families. Their friends. Everybody." She smiles up at him sadly. "If you can just listen to them.. talk to them. It makes all the difference."

"I can do that." He nods as she leads him through. There were still some people being treated for major injuries sustained, but he's told that most people in the medical unit now were there for long term illnesses and the like. There was no place else for them to go until Tachi's hospital was back up and running, which they predicted wouldn't be for another three months at least.

By then, it would be almost a whole year since it happened.

You could tear a place down in a day. But it took a year to build it back up again. It's a sobering reality.

As Claire leaves him to find out where their efforts would best be put to use, he finds himself standing out at the dock, staring across the river to the dimly lit city. Night was falling, but there were lights over there. People working tirelessly to rebuild. He remembers it all. The din of screams, the explosion that sent a shockwave through everything. Chaos. It echoes loudly in his head and he closes his eyes, bringing his hand up to rub his temple. It was all so peaceful now, nothing but gently lapping water and the relaxing clink sound of cables hitting masts on docked boats. It must have been a beautiful place, before terror landed on it's doorstep.

Her gentle hand on his back draws him from the memories and he turns, wrapping her up in his arms. Wordlessly they stare out across the river. Sometimes you didn't need words, the picture just said everything.

* * *

 **Yakushima, Japan - Three Days Later**

Jill had lost track of time. It had no meaning when you were shut away in the dark, deep in the heart of a remote mountain. After a while, you became numb to everything around you. Eyes adjusted to the lack of light, you stopped smelling the stink of death and decay and.. well.. people shut in a room together. You just held on. Existed, because there weren't many other options. It could have been one day, she was fairly sure it was around four.. maybe five.

If she were to guess, she'd say once a day someone opened the door, blinded them with light and threw in food and water. Like they were nothing but neglected pets, being kept for no other reason than their owner didn't want to let them go.

Their hands remained tied, skin broken and blistering around the constantly chafing rope. She was the only one of them that understood what their captors were saying, so on the odd occasion she caught a word through the door, or someone came in to the room and yelled at them, she translated. They were waiting. Keeping them alive until they were ready for whatever it was they had planned. Of course, everyone in that room had some idea of what was in store for them, they knew what it was they were up against. They'd been sent here to shut it down, after all. Shut it down before minor league became major league – cut the head off the beast before it grew too big.

They'd underestimated their enemy, they knew that now. The beast was already nearing full size.

She slept with her head on Chris' shoulder. She was sure the gash in his hand was infected, he'd developed a slight fever over the last day or so, and even though he didn't complain, she knew it was hurting him by the way he'd grumble whenever he had to move it. She wished she could take care of it for him, that they could fight their way out of this, but in a weakened state and without a weapon between them, there was very little they could do.

The silence is broken by the sound of the lock coming undone, a moment later the dark room is flooded with light that hurts their eyes. Three figures invade the small space, silhouettes against the torch flames. One by one, they're hauled to their feet, moved out of the small holding cell and led down seemingly endless corridors until they reach a large chamber, lit by fluorescent strip lights that hummed with electricity.

There were six chairs. At gunpoint, they're made to sit.

"Just get it over with, before I shove that gun up your ass.." Chris snarls in the face of the barrel of an assault rifle.

"Chris." Jill hisses to his side.

"Fuck them." He answers, then spits at the feet of his captor. It makes the man laugh, and then Jill lets out a cry as he swipes Chris around the head with the heel of the rifle. Instantly there's blood.

"Stop!" She pleads in their language as he goes to hit him again. "He'll co-operate. Please don't."

They're laughing at her. Laughing at her desperation. She notices in the background, that someone is setting up a video camera on a tripod. She has a sinking feeling she knows what's coming next.

As the cackling captors back off, she leans over to check on Chris. He was conscious, barely. His head bowed, blood trickling from the wound in his temple down along his cheek, dripping from his chin in to his lap.

"Gentlemen!" The sudden sound of a well spoken English speaking voice is jarring, and Jill blinks, looking to the door as the tall figure of a man dressed entirely in black, including a mask covering the lower half of his face, enters the room. "And lady." He adds, noticing Jill sitting there. He drops down a briefcase on a shoddy looking table and speaks to the guards, telling them to stand back. He then claps his hands together, addressing them.

"We are going to make ourselves a little.. home movie." He announces.

"Why are you doing this?" Jill asks boldly.

He tilts his head, narrowing icy blue eyes at her. They were all she could really make out about his face. "Where I come from, ladies are to be seen and not heard." He says it so coldly, she actually quiets. Normally she'd punch someone in the face for suggesting she should keep her voice to herself, but something about him, the well spoken – proper English tone, made her skin crawl. "Now if you would just listen, you will find out."  
She swallows, clenching her fists, still tied tightly behind her.

He turns, flipping the catches on his briefcase and opening it up. To Jill's side, Chris comes around a little more, making a groan of a sound. She's looking at him when the sound of metal scraping out of a sheath brings her attention back around to their captor.

It's like pouring ice water over her. He brandishes a razor sharp machete. Large. Deadly.

Jill's heart beats faster. Someone at the back starts the video camera recording. The man in black takes a knee in front of the six captured BSAA agents, speaking as he's filmed. Explaining what is about to happen, and why.

She's never been more terrified in her life.

The man in black finishes addressing the recipients of this recording and stands, moving behind them. He stops by each one of them, running his hand over their heads. Jill closes her eyes as he reaches her, feeling him grip her hair, and the cold steel of that machete press against her cheek. He was taunting, making them guess. When he releases her, she lets out a breath she didn't even know she'd been holding. A second later a few feet to her side, there's a slice. Gurgling. The splash of blood on the floor.

She can't help it. Tears streak down her face.

They were going to die here.

* * *

 **Outside Tachi - Lanshiang, China**

The work was exhausting, but it was rewarding. In three days he'd moved what felt like a thousand boxes, talked to a hundred people, even changed dressings on wounds and simply entertained children – fascinating them with a couple of simple coin magic tricks. Bet you didn't know Leon Kennedy was a part time sleight of hand magician. The things you could learn to do on lengthy flights in to war zones.

There was no fancy hotel, no moments respite, nothing glamorous about any of it. He and Claire shared a bunk together in a makeshift tent alongside the rest of the workers and that was just fine. They kept each other warm as the January nights chilled the air. There wasn't much room for privacy, but that was okay too. They stole small moments here and there – it was actually beginning to feel dangerously like a real relationship. He wasn't sure if that scared him or comforted him. Was he ready for all that? Ready to take something beyond just sex and companionship? He cared about her, he always had. But when you started putting labels on things, started calling it a relationship, started owing things to one another, then it suddenly became messy. Complicated. He wasn't a fan of complicated. What if it ruined the friendship they had?

Not only that, but in their world relationships were dangerous. Even having family was dangerous, he'd seen it first hand with Helena. Simmons had used her sister to get to her, and even once she complied she still hadn't been able to save her loved one. He couldn't see that happen to Claire, and who knows what kind of evil he'd be facing next.

Maybe it was best if it just stayed as it was. Friends.. with benefits? That sounded kinda shallow, it didn't sit well with him either.

They needed to talk. But now wasn't the time or the place.

"We need to take this to the workers in the city," Claire pats her hand over a stack of crates being loaded in to the back of a truck, "think you're ready to see it all again?"

Leon nods, he was pretty settled in to the place by now. "Lets do it."

They take the chance to steal one of those small moments, sharing a brief kiss amidst the stacked up supplies.

"You okay?" she asks him when it breaks. He frowns a little.

"Yeah, why?"

"Don't know, you just... look like you have something on your mind." She laughs quietly.

He considers this for a moment, then offers her a small smile. "Nothing that can't wait until we get home."

She hesitates, studying him. "Well now you've got me curious."

He laughs under his breath, gesturing for her to go finish gathering things up for their short trip. "Seriously, it can wait."

She returns him an exasperated looking smile and rolls her eyes. "International man of mystery, I get it."

"Lets just do what we came here to do," he says with a shrug, grasping a crate and hauling it in to the back of the truck with ease. "We can figure out us when we get back."

Claire was about to turn away, when he let the 'us' word slip. Tilting her head back toward him. "So you want to talk about us?"

He groans under his breath, closing his eyes and shaking his head a tiny bit. "Claire.."

"Leon!" she retorts. "What about us?"

He moves to another crate and glances at her. "You really wanna have a conversation about us in the middle of all this?" He gestures around the warehouse they were in, the bustle of people all around them. She purses her lips and folds her arms.

"Well that depends, if its a good or a bad conversation."

He can't help his small laugh. "Women." He sighs.

"Don't do that," she unfolds her arms, sounding a little offended. "Don't just lump me in with 'women'"

Leon drops the crate he's holding down and turns to face her as she scolds him, bringing his hands to her hips. "Shhhhh."

"Don't shush me!"

"Claire."

"No! You can't bring up 'us' then call me 'women' and shush me!"

He grins gently and kisses her.

"Leon."

He kisses her again.

"You can't."

And again. Third times the charm, and she sighs in to it, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"Relax." He murmurs when it breaks, his hands moving from her hips to lightly stroke her lower back - a remarkably intimate and affectionate gesture. "It's not bad, it's just..."

"Just what?" She looks up and in to his eyes.

He didn't want to talk about this here. He didn't want to open up the can of worms that could come with this conversation, around all these people that were expecting their help. He looks away, and as he does he catches sight of something on the TV screen over by the base camps communications station. His eyes narrow. It was airing a news station and he couldn't hear what was being said, but the letters 'BSAA' scroll along the bottom and for some reason, it grasps his attention.

"Leon?"

"Hang on a second.." he murmurs, releasing her and heading over to it. "Can you turn that up?" he gestures to the guy manning the communications center as he reaches it. He's given a frown in return, but the worker obliges. It's in Chinese, of course, but he understands enough to get by. A hostage situation in Yakushima, Japan. BSAA Soldiers. Demands. A warning.

He watches as grainy footage recorded in some dingy hole somewhere airs. Six people, tied to chairs – and a man addressing the camera, holding a machete. he feels his stomach turn over as Claire moves up behind him.

"Leon what's..."

He turns his head to look at her and the expression on his face stops her in her tracks, "Claire.." He reaches out to her as she looks toward the screen. Instantly her hands fly up over her mouth, an audible gasp that makes those around them look their way in curiosity.

"Chris!" She'd know her brother anywhere. There he was in living color, his face bloodied, sitting beside Jill Valentine on a grainy, badly lit video – while the censored out image of a member of their team has his throat cut.

"Jesus.." He murmurs, bowing his head out of solidarity for a fallen brother in arms. Nobody should have to die like that.

"What's happening? What is this?" Claire demands, like any of them had any more answers.

"They said hostage situation," Leon gently brushes a hand over her back, "this footage was uploaded to the fucking internet."

No sooner does he say it, his phone begins bleeping. Tucked away in the inside pocket of his leather jacket, it had been quiet for days. He shares a look with a now distraught Claire and turns away, pulling the phone out and tucking in the ear piece to answer the video call.

"Leon, thank God."

"Whats happening?"

"We need you." Ingrid Hunnigan says urgently.

"This shit on the news?" He asks grimly.

"You've seen it?"

"It just came on over here, what do they want?"

"The footage was uploaded to social media fifteen minutes ago, it went straight to news channels. They're demanding the release of three men currently being held in US prisons, the former heads of their group - The Order."

Leon scowls, the name sounded familiar.

"Leon, you arrested them – three years ago – for transporting black market BOW's in to the US."

"The Order? They were just small time dealers. You're telling me they're still in the game?"

"Very much so. In the game, and making some pretty serious waves in underground trade. They've been taking out competition and dominating the black market. So much so the BSAA sent in a team to take them down after they made multiple threats to the US - in the wake of you destroying a shipment of modified Hunter's two months ago off the Gulf of Alaska. As you can see, they underestimated what The Order were capable of. It appears not only do they have complete control of several villages surrounding Mount Yakushima, but the entire mountain itself. It's a fortress."

He clenches his jaw, glancing at Claire who stood near by, clearly shaken up. "The DSO Suspended me, I can't do shit officially. I touch this and they could fuck me."

"I'm working on that." Ingrid sighs, clearly as irritated with their employer as he was, "in the meantime, unofficially... they need you."

He agrees, to hell with the rules. "Get me there."

"BSAA teams are on their way to you now. You need to move fast, in 12 hours, they execute another of them."

Leon returns a look of grim determination and the video call ends. He pockets the phone an leaves the ear piece in, looking to Claire. "I have to go."

"What do you mean? Are they sending you in to get them?" Claire grasps him by the arm of his jacket.

"Unofficially, yeah. There's a BSAA team on the way."

"Then I'm coming with you." She states flatly.

"Claire.."

"Don't tell me I can't." She cuts him off before he can argue.

"I'm not saying you're not capable, obviously I know you are, but I can't do this with you there." He says quietly.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"It means I need to know you're alright. These people are dangerous, they're not your average undead nightmare."

"Don't patronize me," she snaps at him.

"I'm not patronizing you. People need you here, and I can't take on some machete wielding death squad with a grudge against me and worry about you being in the firing line too."

"You don't have to worry about me, I can handle myself." She insists.

"I know you can but.."

"That's my brother!" She shouts at him.

"And you're my girl!" He shouts right back at her, louder than intended. If he's honest, the words take him a little by surprise.

She blinks, staring at him.

"If I was your girl, you wouldn't try to stop me." She says quietly.

"Claire.."

"Chris would come for me. There's no way I'm sitting this out."

Leon grits his teeth, looking away from her. He knew she could handle herself, of course he did. But if this group had bounced back stronger than ever, strong enough to take down the likes of Chris Redfield and Jill Valentine and be holding them hostage then they were truly dangerous. And likely out for revenge on the man that put away their beloved leaders and cost them a lot of money sinking their shipment.

What better way to get to him, than through her?

"I can't.." he begins to explain.

"Then don't. You stay.. and I'll go." She cuts him off flatly, going to move past him. He catches her arm and their eyes meet. He knew that look, there was no talking her out of it.

"Alright." He says in a softer, calmer tone.

But she shrugs out of his grasp. "I wasn't asking your permission."

Claire stalks away, leaving Leon watching after her.

Women.


	16. Damned if You Do

**Authors Note:** I always do lyrics for a reason, the songs are worth looking up. They inspire each chapter. Music is my muse. Onward!

* * *

 **And I'm lonely here inside of me  
** **Deep inside of me  
** **I've never  
** **Never felt myself this way before  
** **I don't want to leave you with my fears**

 **If you'll disappear  
** **Believe in the light in me  
** **Saving all my words only for you**

 **Falling on knees only for you**  
 **Forgive me**

 **\- Lacuna Coil, "Cold Heritage"**

* * *

Leon sits at the edge of the bunk he'd been sharing with Claire, tightly tying the laces of his comfortable, well worn combat boots. He'd had these things since Spain, believe it or not. He couldn't bring himself to get rid of them. They'd been through everything with him, he'd gotten them repaired numerous times but getting new ones was just out of the question. He wouldn't call them 'lucky' – as he wouldn't call the situations he'd worn them through lucky. But they were familiar, never let him down, kept him grounded every time he thought he might lose his mind. He finishes with the lace and rests his elbows on his knees, clasping his hands together and settling them under his chin – he gazes at nothing, lost in thought.

The last time he'd seen Chris Redfield they'd been ready to throw down, the man was furious with him and rightfully so. By walking in to this fight he knew he put his very career on the line, there was a good chance the DSO wouldn't take kindly to him shrugging off his suspension and that they'd call it the BSAA's problem despite the terrorists making demands of the country. He could end up in some serious shit, but after what happened with Elizabeth – he no longer cared. In half a year he'd been fucked over by the head of the NSA, labelled the Presidents killer, declared dead, been stuck on a boat with acid bleeding BOW's and finally – when he'd tried to do some good, when he'd tried to save a child – they'd murdered her. The only innocent person in that whole fucking scenario, killed, because of paperwork and how things might look in a report.

He was beginning to question who the bad guys really were. A thought that makes him feel cold and uneasy inside. That wasn't who he was, he wasn't a man that let children die or stood by adhering to some poxy rule when a friend's life was at stake. He owed Chris Redfield.. and even if he didn't, nobody deserved to die like that. So whatever happened, if this was his last mission, he was going and he was getting them out of there.

"Hey.."

Claire's voice brings him around from his thoughts, he shifts his eyes up to her but doesn't change how he's sitting, his chin continuing to rest on his knuckles.

"Hey." he responds in kind.

She cautiously takes a seat beside him, the small bunk creaking under the weight of them both. They'd joked about that over the last three nights, how it was good there were too many people around for them to get handsy, because the bunks would give them away in a heartbeat.

"So, is this it?" She asks quietly.

A little frown fleets over his brow. "What do you mean?"

"Is this where you go all GI Joe and stop communicating with me?"

"No.." he shakes his head the tiniest fraction. "You walked away from me." He reminds.

"I know. I'm just.. Chris..." She draws a deep breath. She was used to her brother being in life threatening situations, but that never made it any easier to deal with. It definitely didn't make seeing him bloodied with a machete next to his face less upsetting.

Leon lets his hands drop, bowing his head. "We'll get him back." He says certainly. "Him, Jill, the whole squad."

Claire slowly nods. "I won't slow you down. I promise."

He flicks his gaze up to her and studies her for a moment, before letting out a slight chuckle. "Why are you assuming I think you can't take care of yourself? You had your shit together better than I did in Raccoon City. I know you can handle yourself."

"Then why..."

He sighs. "Because.." He shrugs. "Because I've never had someone I.." He closes his eyes, looking away from her. That wasn't true, he had had someone he cared about there with him in battle before, Ada. Right here, at the Quad Tower a handful of miles from where they sat.

"Someone you what?"

She was pushing for answers he didn't know how to give. He rolls his eyes to the ceiling, looking for words. "Thats a lie.." He murmurs. "Last time I walked in to a war zone with someone I really cared about, she almost died. And I almost died protecting her.. the whole thing, the entire mission could have gone to shit because I cared more about her than I did about ending that battle." He swallows and looks back to her with a small smile. "I don't wanna choose between you and saving your brother and Jill."

"You won't have to." She promises.

"You can't know that for sure. None of us know how these things are going to play out. And if they know anything about me – which I promise you they do, I fucked them up twice – they'll know about you. And they'll know the fastest way to throw me off my game will be to go after you."

She stares at him, considering his words. Honestly, they weren't something she had considered.

"Oh.." she whispers after a moment or two held in his gaze.

"It's what the bad guys do." He says quietly. "Aim for the ones you love." He turns his fingers in to a gun gesture and clicks his tongue in his mouth.

Silence hangs over them. Heavy, like the world had stopped going about its business just to listen to them talk.

"But I won't stop you. That's your brother. We'll go.. we'll fight.. we'll get them out." He nods, "we'll hope for the best."

"But you're expecting the worst."

"I always expect the worst." He laughs softly, "cause it usually happens."

Claire rests her elbows on her knees and covers her face with her hands for a moment, then looks back to him. "This is never going to get any easier is it."

"Hm?" He tilts his eyebrow curiously.

"You and me."

His frown deepens.

"There's always going to be something. A reason.."

"I can't help that this is our world. The careers that chose us. Any more than I can help that scumbags will be scumbags, and they'll always aim low." He says with a sigh. "Why go for the hurt when you can go for the heart?"

"That's.. morbid."

"That's what one of them said to me once." He scratches the few days of stubble on his chin, remembering, "mission in Egypt. Two of my team were husband and wife. They'd been on a ton of jobs together, career military. Never seen two people more in love and more in tune with each other. They even had the exact same reload times, it was crazy." He smiles wistfully. "There was this rising terrorist group specializing in some real nasty synthetic, bio-weapon shit. They dreamed it up in a lab, were extorting towns with the threat of it." Rolling his eyes he bypasses the finer details of their weapon. "Job was simple. Kick the shit out of them, destroy their labs. Bring a sample back so an antidote could be made just in case. But it turned out they had the backing of some serious money players. We were outgunned. Pinned down. Instead of killing us all.. their big cheese just killed her."

He gazes sadly at nothing once again, slowly rubbing his hands together as he remembers. "Said this was the price you paid for sticking your nose in his business. Why go for the hurt when you can go for the heart?" He shrugs. "I mean, in the end I shot his ass and got out of there. Mission accomplished. But he might as well have killed Rob too because he died as soon as she did.. up here." He taps the side of his head. "He didn't make it out of there. People that create bio weapons, that deal in world ending shit.. they're doing it because they want other people to suffer. I realized that a long time ago. It's bigger than money, bigger than greed. Bigger than 'hey I'm a fancy scientist playing God'... it's sick people, that want everyone else in pain. So if they can, they'll pick tearing you apart over plain killing you.. every single time."

Claire runs a hand through her hair, sighing heavily. He'd seen some things, that was for sure. More than she had. She never went looking for wars, she didn't take on life or death missions by choice or by career. She was just good with a gun, had her brothers instincts and seemed to land herself in trouble now and again. She couldn't live the life he did. It was ingrained in her to help people, to ease suffering, not bear witness to more of it. "I can't not go." She whispers.

"I know." He nods, sitting up and putting an arm around her shoulders, he pulls her to him.

"What happens.. after?" She asks quietly, tucking her hand around his thigh, almost holding on to him.

He tilts his head, kissing her brow. "I don't know." he answers in a mumble against her skin. "Guess we'll figure that out then."

They fall quiet. If only they had a little privacy, that need to take comfort to a whole other level rising in both of them. But that wasn't their lives, at least not today. Instead they sit, and they wait, in silence.

It's a silence that's eventually broken by the thundering thud of dual chopper blades. A wind kicked up outside as two BSAA helicopters come in to land at the docks. It causes a stir, the peaceful camp rocked by the arrival, though workers quickly rush to assure the refugees that everything is fine, they're just there to pick someone up. Leon and Claire get to their feet, he'd changed in to all black though he had no guns or body armor with him, he hadn't expected to need any – being suspended and everything.

"Agent Kennedy.." A younger looking man in full jungle camo strides up to greet him with a hand shake. Leon returns it firmly and nods.

"Leon's fine, and this is Claire Redfield." He nods to her standing at his side. "Chris Redfields sister. She'll be coming too."

The younger man introduces himself as Mark and of course, he knows of Claire. Shaking her hand too.

"So what do we know about this so called 'Fortress'?" Leon asks as they stride toward the chopper, leaving their things behind. The TerraSave people would take care of it for them.

"It is literally that." Mark sighs, "a network of tunnels and chambers carved directly in to the mountain. Nobody even knew it existed until recently. I'll show you."

They load up in to the chopper and he's handed a tablet with numerous diagrams and pictures.

"We've managed to map out a lot of it thanks to Satellite Imagery, Infra Red scanning and tracking power lines and the like. As well as some good old fashioned geology, there's a cave system about half way up that used to be popular for thrillseekers. But then a walkway collapsed and now it's cut off."

As the man talks, Leon scans through the images. Narrowing his eyes, calculating. It had a main entrance, the collapsed cave entrance, and a waterfall inside with a steep drop in to a lagoon. The Mountain was like a piece of Swiss Cheese. Someone had way too much money and time on their hands. As Mark explains the situation, Leon's already forming a plan.

* * *

 **Kuchinoerabu Island – West of Yakushima**

 **6 hours later**

The BSAA had set up an operations base camp on a small island to the west of Yakushima. Yakushima itself not much more than a larger island with the great mountain sitting at the heart of it. Once upon a time it was a place for thrill seekers, holidaymakers and those looking to get away from it all. Now it appeared it had been taken over by black market bio weapons dealers, that used it as a Fortress base. They'd coerced or threatened men from the surrounding small villages in to working for them, according to what intel the BSAA and co-operating organizations could gather, villagers were being used as worker bees. Creating some of the products in makeshift labs, or simply moving them from one spot to another.

Everything from modified Hunters, to standard Lickers, to variations on the fucking T Virus. They had their hands as dirty as they could get, and stuck out between the East China and Philippine seas, nobody had even noticed they were doing it. There was a nasty theory there was something in the water there also, that had been harvested and was being used to control the people of the village.

It sounded very much to Leon like the entire place needed scorching from the earth. But that was not what they were here to do – and an island of such natural beauty shouldn't have to go out like that. If they could restore this island to it's former glory, all the better. First, they needed to clear out the infestation of cockroaches.

Leon was back in his element. However much the aftermath of these events got into his head and under his skin – when he was in the midst of them, he was a whole other animal. Focused, deadly, calculating. Claire had noticed the shift in his manner on the flight across the sea. The gentleness leaving him, a colder, more precise beast taking his place. A trained killer, she supposed. She didn't remember him like this, it wasn't the man she had known in Raccoon City, or even Harvardville – although he'd been a little more jaded, a little further away back then. She could see it, how much of himself he had to switch off to do what he had to do.

It was intense. It was kinda scary. Like Jekyll and Hyde wrapped up in the most handsome package she'd ever known.

But that was unfair of her to think. He wasn't evil. He was just preserving himself. To become the hero he needed to be. What a fine line to walk. She felt like the more she understood him, the less she really knew about him at all.

"I have another idea." Leon interrupts the BSAA Captain in charge of the operation. He was fiddling with a combat knife, his booted feet kicked up on the table they all sat around. A projected map on the wall and a diagram of what they knew of the inner workings of the mountain spread out over the tabletop. The Captain wanted to be straightforward about it, work their way inside, fight their way out. That just seemed like a first class way to get everybody killed – or at least the highest bodycount possible.

"By all means.." The Captain gestures to him. He'd earned his reputation by now, gone were the days people scoffed in his direction and then ate their words a while later.

Leon drops his feet from the table and gets up. Hovering his knife right around the known main entrance to the tunnel system. "I say you throw everything you have, right here." He presses the tip of the blade to the diagram. "And I mean everything. You go up there armed to the teeth and you slap the shit out of them."

"Isn't that what I said?"

"No. You said infiltrate, advance. I'm saying you stay outside, and you cause as much fucking trouble as you can. You start working your way in those tunnels I guarantee you you'll be ass deep in whatever they got locked away in there in minutes. Half of you will die in a bloodbath." He looks around the room. "You stay outside and you unleash hell, from the sky, from the ground. You keep them busy."

He pulls the knife up, standing back, he digs it down in to another area of the map. "While you have their attention over there, I'll make my way through here. Sneak in through the back door.. so to speak."

"Impossible, the pathway collapsed. Nothing there but a hole." The Captain waves him off.

"I can make it."

"How?"

"I can make it." He states again, meeting the Captains gaze with his own.

The Captain puts his hands on his hips and laughs a little incredulously. "You got wings we don't know about?"

Leon smirks back. "Just me. From what I can tell it's a bigass drop into an abyss, but the ceiling is pretty low." He gestures to recent photos on a tablet taken by tourists a year or so ago. "A hookshot, some climbing gear – I assume you have some – I'll make it."

"Do you realize how far across that is?"

"I do. I'll make it." He says confidently.

"Seriously, he does like 500 pull ups a day.." Claire speaks up from her chair. Though she too was looking at Leon like he was insane.

"And if you fail?" The Captain sighs.

"Then it's not too much of a stretch for you to go with your original plan, is it." Leon reasons. "But I wont fail. I don't fail. It's not a word I deal in. You keep them busy, I'll get out your team."

"You'll still encounter resistance." He's reminded.

"But it'll be less, and nothing I can't handle." He counters.

"You are one over confident, cocky motherfucker, you know that?" the Captain smirks.

"So I'm told." He plucks the knife up and slips it in to the side of his boot. He was fully strapped now, guns everywhere. Good to go.

"How do you propose extracting them?" Another member of the squad speaks up and Leon turns his attention to him, then gestures to the waterfall on the diagram.

"We go for a swim." He taps the image. "It's a bit of a dive.. but once we hit the water, cross the lagoon, its a straight shot through a tunnel to get out. Decent extraction point outside."

The Captain slowly nods. "Why aren't you working for us again?"

Leon laughs quietly. "After this I might need a job. So hold that thought."

"I heard you were suspended, what'd you do?"

"I didn't think killing a child that had been tortured by government scientists was a good idea." He says quietly.

The Captain slowly stops chewing his gum. "Well, for what its worth, I'm glad you're in to breaking rules right now."

Leon nods. "We don't have much time, they execute another in three hours."

Agreements made, they head out of the tent to start gearing up for their assault. It wasn't a huge amount of time to plan out an attack, and to find the things they needed. Luckily, the small island they were set up on was a big tourist trap for climbers and hikers. Finding the climbing gear he needed was not a huge ask. It was extra bulk around his body, stuff he wasn't used to carrying. But once he was over that abyss, he could ditch it.

He's attaching wedge anchors to his harness when Claire approaches, her arms folded. He sighs a little, he already knew where this was going.

"So I don't have your upper body strength.." She says as she reaches him. He regards her quietly. "Any tips?"

"Yeah, go with the others. Give em hell up there." He says it almost hopefully.

"I'm not being a decoy while people threaten to kill my brother." She says flatly.

"A decoy is what I need. This doesn't work without it." He argues.

"No. I'm coming with you."

He attaches the final clip and looks at her. Then he doesn't say another word. He reaches for another harness, a smaller one. Handing it to her. Quietly, she begins to put it on while he gathers up everything she'll need.

"You ever done this before?" He asks as he starts clipping a few things to her.

"No. Well.. I've abseiled. Basic rock climbing. I'm pretty strong.. just not 500 pull ups a day strong."

He nods. "You won't need to be. As long as you can pull yourself up there. Once you're up, you'll be able to rest between grips."

"I don't understand."

"I lay out the path. Get up there, fix the anchors, feed a rope through them all. Once it's all in place you climb up.. and I act as your anchor to get you across. It's hard to explain, you'll see." He shrugs a little.

He was so cold. Focused. The Leon she knew had left the building. There wasn't an ounce of affection in him.

"So you turn it into monkey bars, basically." She laughs softly.

"Something like that."

"Is there anything else I need to do?"

"Pray the rope doesn't snap?" He mutters, cinching a buckle tight around her, making her flinch a bit. "Sorry, has to be tight."

"It's okay." She murmurs.

With everything fixed, he glances around the small store they'd commandeered and notices something on the wall. His eyes narrow and he glances to the store keeper, asking him in his language if it was the real deal. He gets a confirmation that it is, indeed, the real thing.

Leon plucks down the traditional Japanese Katana. A black handle with a shiny dragon emblem etched around the hilt. He draws it from it's sheath and it practically sings, sending a shiver of the best kind down his spine. It was sharp as hell, the shopkeeper demonstrated by dropping a piece of fabric over it, which it easily splits in two.

"How much?" Leon asks. In close quarters combat – the kind you'd get in a cave system – it would be more valuable than any gun he could carry. The Shopkeeper names his price, and Leon pays it. They leave with the climbing equipment they needed, and the sword securely strapped to his back. Couldn't say he didn't revel in the cultures of the countries he visited.

Together, he and Claire stride back toward the base camp as the helicopters are loaded and the soldiers pull their shit together. They were preparing a full on assault, four full squads ready to raise hell. Leon nods to the Captain. "Give em a world of shit, boys." He says as he climbs in to the smaller chopper ready to take him to the other side of the mountain. He holds out a hand to Claire and helps her in, she settles at his side.

"Get our people out alive, Leon." The Captain retorts.

He nods, and gives the slightest salute with his fingers to his forehead as the chopper begins to lift from the ground.

Once they're in the air, he gazes out of the side of the helicopter as land gives way to blue sea. He hadn't been to the beach in forever, maybe after this he'd finally take a vacation. Maybe – just maybe – Claire would like to come. A small smile drifts over his face and he looks to her, sitting at his side. She looked focused and anxious. Armed with her own guns and knives, but nothing over the top or flashy. They were going in to caves, after all. At close quarters things like shotguns and assault rifles were all but a recipe for complete disaster. They didn't need more things working against them. She seems to sense him gazing at her and tilts her head to look at him, offering him a small smile in return. Over the din of their transport, they couldn't hear each other even if they did speak, but in that moment he has the overwhelming urge to tell her..

Well.

That he loved her. Always had.

But there was always a reason why he couldn't.

Instead, they return their gazes to the passing sea. Waiting for Yakushima to appear in front of them. A fortress he hoped they made it out of with their lives.

His phone vibrates inside his belt and he touches his hand to his ear, answering it.

"Leon Kennedy, this is James Hoult. Need I remind you that you are suspended."

Leon grits his teeth as his employers voice comes over the comms. "I'm well aware of that, Sir."

"Ingrid Hunnigan tells me you are willfully stepping in to a fight that is not ours."

"With all due respect, these people are making threats against the US Government, and demanding we free known terrorists. I believe it is our fight. They are executing BSAA Soldiers."

"Then let us handle it."

"There's less than two hours before they execute another, Sir. We don't have time for you to send anyone else out here."

"We have Agent Harper ready to.."

"I'm already here."

"You are directly defying orders.."

"To save lives."

"Then you accept the consequences."

"I do."

"Very well. There will come a time, Mr Kennedy, that you will have to realize you are not above the rules. President Benford may have let you run amok, but he is no longer here."

"With all due respect, Mr Hoult.." Leon lifts his hand to the earpiece again, "kiss my ass."

With that, he hangs up.

"Prick."


	17. Climbing up the Walls

**Authors Note:** Here goes everything..

* * *

 **I won't pretend that I resist temptation**  
 **I think it's funny when you preach damnation**  
 **I've been to hell and back and now it's just a part of me**  
 **Without the darkness there'd be no light in me**

 **I waged war in a fiery blaze**  
 **I found peace in a purple haze**  
 **My angels and my demons**  
 **They don't know their place**  
 **Ready or not, they're gonna come out and play**

 **\- In this Moment, 'Half God, Half Devil'**

* * *

Leon lifts his head and watches as the small chopper lifts off and away from them, leaving them standing on a rocky plateau around a quarter of the way up the mountain. To his side, Claire crouches, anxiously making final preparations. Securing her things, the kind of busywork you undertook when you were trying to focus your mind on the task at hand. With the helicopter safely out of sight, Leon's sure nobody has spotted their landing and he turns his attention to the device strapped to the inside of his forearm, tapping on the touch screen and reading the small system. "Short hike, we should reach the cave entrance in about twenty minutes." He says quietly, glancing at her as she gets back to her feet.

Claire shields her eyes to the sun to look back at him, giving him a small nod. "Lets do it."

He taps his finger to his earpiece and opens a channel with the BSAA Captain leading the assault. "Hang back, ETA around twenty minutes."

Getting the acknowledgement, they begin their ascent. The flat rocky outcrop doesn't last for long, within a matter of minutes they reach steeper, rougher terrain that puts their thighs to work. The ground beneath them was flint covered and crumbled, making every step even harder. What used to be a trail was now overgrown – abandoned since the pathway in the cave system collapsed. He holds his hand out to Claire, helping her over a sharp incline. Its a workout, even for him, and reaching the cave entrance is a welcome respite from the sun beating down through the sparse trees. Once inside, the temperature dropped dramatically. Going from sweating to chilled as they advance.

As the light from the entrance fades away, Leon reaches in to one of the pockets in his black combat pants and pulls out a light stick, snapping it and illuminating the tunnel in a bright green glow. She does the same just behind him. "Watch your footing," he says quietly.

It was like a descent in to some kind of cold stone purgatory – all sounds fading away, except for the distant rush of water echoing through the chambers which Leon assumed was from the waterfall they'd be making their escape through. Goosebumps prickled his arms from the cold. Since this had stopped being a tourist attraction, it had become dank, a home for creatures that enjoyed the dark. They sift their way through the odd cobweb – Claire discovers a scorpion or what looked like one, taking cover in a crevice. By the glowing green light, they make their way deeper. The path switching from a descent, to a sudden and complicated ascent. It puts their basic rock climbing skills to the test. He reaches the top of the incline and stretches a hand out to her, helping her up the last few feet.

"You good?" he asks, once they're standing again.

"Sure." She nods, a little breathless.

"Warmed us up a bit at least, huh." He smiles, then returns his attention to the path ahead before she can answer.

They don't have to go much further before the small tunnel suddenly opens out in to a cavern, making him come to an abrupt halt and take in the scene ahead of him. He looks down as Claire draws up behind him – into an abyss of nothing. Darkness waiting to swallow them. He couldn't even see the other side, it needed more light than the glow sticks. Before they left, he'd given Claire a small backpack to carry, it only contained a few items, some extras he figured they might need. He asks for one of them now. She rummages for a moment and draws out a flare. Setting it off, the bright orange fire lights up the cavern and finally he can see the other side.

"Are you really going to make that?" She asks quietly.

He glances back at her, "that or I die." He shrugs.

"Well, don't die. I like your face." She sighs.

Leon nods, drawing his arm back and throwing the flare. It arcs through the dank air and lands on the other side of the abyss, glowing and lighting his path for him. He snaps two more glow sticks and attaches them to himself – one to his belt, one to his wrist. It doesn't take long for him to get what he needed together, and while he arranges everything, Claire finds a rock and drops it into the gaping darkness. Both of them listen. When the sound of it hitting the bottom never comes, they give each other a look. She wants to tell him not to do it, that she had a sudden very bad feeling. But this was the plan, and they didn't have many other options.

Leon touches the comms. "Starting the crossing now."

It's acknowledged. He lifts the hookshot and takes aim at a crack in the ceiling about six feet above him. Firing, it embeds itself and he takes a minute, yanking on it, making sure it's steady. Then he looks back to Claire. Nothing is said – what words could you possibly share? Though a huge part of her wants to kiss him, just in case. She doesn't. She prays to whomever might be listening, as he begins the climb.

Once he's up, the task really begins. Holding on to rope with one hand and his feet, he plucks an anchor wedge from his belt and finds a decent spot to insert the clasp. With it fixed, he feeds the line, and swings to the next spot like a man on monkey bars. Hanging there, over an abyss, he works his way slowly but surely across the ceiling of the cavern. Fixing wedges, moving to the next one, legs dangling. He rests one arm while hanging from the other, then switches. At the half way point, his breathing becomes heavier. His hands were starting to hurt, his shoulders feeling the burn of supporting his bodyweight so long.

With a grunt and a growl, he jams in the next wedge and grits his teeth, grabbing the next hold and for a moment just hanging by both arms. Letting them take his weight for a minute. He closes his eyes, breathing. It was just pain, it didn't mean anything other than he wasn't dead.

"Are you okay?" Claire's voice echoes over to him.

He grits his teeth. He couldn't talk right now. He just nods, letting his hand drop for another wedge clipped to his belt. The last twenty feet are the worst, and he snarls and growls his way through it. Claire watches him with one hand on her stomach, feeling quite sick. The effort and strain was clearly getting to him and she'd never seen him struggle before – not with anything physical anyway.

With a yell of effort he fixes the final wedge. Looping the rope through. As he does, he notices something. What looked like claw marks embedded in to the ceiling near the wedge. He frowns, hanging there and looking at them, he reaches out with his other hand and moves his fingers over them, drawing back, his hand returns with a sticky, mucus like gunk on them. He pulls a face. They weren't alone down here.

"What is it?" Claire shouts over.

"Nothing." He replies in a grunt. Wiping his hand off on his pants, he forces himself forward. Another growl as his shoulders screamed at him, he swings his entire body and lets go. Landing like a cat on the other side. He takes a moment, hands on his knees, getting his breath and letting his arms rest. After a minute he stands straight, stretching, shaking off his hands. Time to get Claire across.

"Fasten it how I showed you.." he instructs, watching from the other side of the void as she fixes the rope he'd fed through to herself.

Her hands were shaking.

With a deep breath, she gives him a nod.

"Alright, I got you. Just take it steady." He tells her. He had the rope anchored in leather gloved hands. If she fell, it was on him to keep her from plunging in to nothing.

She pulls herself up and fixes the clasp, then begins making her way across. It was tough enough just swinging from spot to spot while moving the clasp from fixture to fixture, she had no idea how he'd held himself there one armed between each one to set up the next anchor. She used to tease him for the amount of time he spent in the gym – she never would again.

She's almost across when he hears it. A scuttling, scurrying sound. Like claws moving over stone. She hears it too. Freezing.

"What is that.." she whispers.

Leon reaffirms his grip on the rope, bracing his legs. "Don't know. Keep moving." He answers simply. He'd adjusted the weight of the rope to his left arm, his right now poised to draw his gun if he needed to.

She nods, swinging to the next grip after switching the clasp. He sees a flash of something behind her.

"MOVE!" He yells and it makes her yelp, all but throwing herself to the next grip as the creature bursts out of the darkness and bounds along the fucking ceiling like a Licker and right toward her. He aims in a heartbeat, firing two shots at its skull. The creature lets out an unholy shriek and plummets screaming into the abyss.

"What the fuck was that?!" She cries, reaching for the last hook without moving the clasp. In her panic, she loses her grip and he sees it happening in slow motion. She slips from the anchors, screaming as gravity takes her the same way as the demon that just attacked. He catches her, holding that rope with everything he has, bracing his foot against a rock and letting out a loud growl as her full bodyweight yanks on his arms. She slams in to the side of the abyss with a gasp, the air knocked from her.

"I got you.." he pants, beginning to pull. "I got you."

She climbs. Once her hand reaches the edge he grabs her, hauling her on to the surface with him. They fall in a panting heap and he holds her to him as she shakes. It's the first affection he's shown her since China.

"We made it." He says quietly. "Now for the hard part." he adds in a quip.

"What was that thing?" She asks in a trembling whisper.

"I don't know. Moved like a Licker.. looked.."

"Almost human." She whispers.

It did. It had looked like some kind of deformed human being, crawling across the ceiling on clawed hands. What the fuck were they making? "BSAA said they were dealing in modified BOW's.. maybe.. it's some new Licker variant. I don't know many things that can defy gravity like that."

"Have I ever mentioned how much I hate this shit?" She laughs a little.

"You and me both." He groans, finally beginning to push themselves up.

As they take a moment to get themselves together, he spots more of that sticky gunk on the walls of the new tunnel. Whatever these things were, they called this home.

"Have your gun ready." He tells her quietly, drawing his.

"You think there's more?"

He hitches a shoulder, "there's always more."

Claire eyes him sideways and he cracks another glowstick, this one red. Before they go any further, he touches his fingers to the comms system in his ear.

"We're across."

"Crazy son of a bitch," The Captain chuckles.

"Time to raise some hell, Boss." Leon smirks.

"Roger that."

Leon lowers his hand and glances to Claire in the dim red glow. "Lets go get that ugly brother of yours."

She nods, and swiftly follows him as they head down in to the tunnel.

It isn't long before the sounds of the BSAA's assault on the mountain begin to reach them, rumbling through the stone walls that surrounded them. They advance swiftly but carefully, but encounter no more of the strange creatures they'd found in the cavern. After a while, the tunnel branches out, becoming less natural formation and more man made. They slow down their pace, realizing they'd reached the inner workings of this so called fortress. Pretty soon, there's lights, and whole rooms carved in to the rock. It slows down their progress considerably as they have to check around corners – the mission turning in to one of stealth.

Peering around a turn, Leon spots the first of the guards he knew they'd encounter. He leans back, glancing to Claire, holding his finger to his lips. She simply nods and he draws his knife, he could only see one, but where there was one there was always another. He gestures to Claire to stay where she is and then breaks from the wall, creeping down the corridor on ghost-light feet. He slips up behind the man and clamps a hand around his mouth. Stabbing him through the throat with the knife. Nasty way to go, but quick, the vein would bleed out in seconds. He Drags the body back out of view and listens, crouching. He can hear a radio, there's talk about the assault above. As hoped, someone is commanding as many men up there as possible.

He gestures to Claire to stay put as she peers around at him, then goes in search of that radio and whoever was holding it.

The radios owner meets the same bladed fate, left to bleed out in a small room. Leon checks the immediate area and returns for Claire. "Decoys working, they're calling everybody up there." he says quietly. "Doesn't mean there wont be more of them. Stay alert."

They advance, checking in to small rooms, looking for any sign of where Jill, Chris and the team might be held. Sifting through drawers and papers. Leon hesitates, finding a whole lot of documents on some of the BOW variants they were working on in this place. They were up to their necks in some serious shit, experimental methods of turning regular creatures in to vicious monstrosities. Some worked, some were listed as a failure. He wondered what the hell it was running around in those outer caves.

Together they emerge from a small room and take only a step or two before they're yelled at to drop their weapons. Flanked from either side of the tunnel by men with guns. In a perfect tandem, he and Claire drop to a crouch as the men fire – shooting each other. Idiots. "And this is why heavy gunfire in narrow hallways is a bad idea, dum dums." Leon shakes his head at one of the bodies as they step over it and continue.

"You think they radioed in that we're here?" Claire asks him as they break in to a jog.

"Count on it."

They sweep forward, taking out anybody that crosses their path like a well oiled machine, working together, Raccoon City's finest. Claire makes swift, precise shots with a silenced hand gun. Leon uses his combat knife, driving it through necks and arteries, leaving pools of blood in their wake. The place was dissolving in to chaos above and dust shivered from the ceiling as the BSAA battered the mountainside with rockets and who knows what else. They reach a row of what looked like locked cells that stank to high heaven, sure smelled like a prison block. "This is it, has to be.." He mutters, running a hand over one of the heavy metal doors. "Keys would be really..."

"DROP YOUR WEAPONS!" A voice bellows behind him and Leon spins on his heel, finding Claire in the arms of a dirty looking man, holding a gun to her head and a hand over her mouth. He'd jumped her from behind and taken her by surprise.

"Let her go." Leon says evenly. Twisting his knife in his hand.

"Fuck you, drop everything.. take that off.." He nods to Leon's holsters. Leon simply smirks.

"You want my guns?" He asks, sheathing the knife. "Alright."

"Slowly!"

Leon nods, unbuckling his belt, letting the guns drop. Claire's captor looks confused but triumphant, not expecting it to be that easy. He grins, showing rows of unclean teeth. His breath makes Claire groan.

"Kick them over."

Leon lifts an eyebrow, his hands up. He hooks the belt with his foot and does as asked.

"American Idiot.." The captor mutters in Japanese, taking his eyes off of Leon for a second to look at the holstered guns. It's all he needs.

Leon's combat knife is free of its sheath and embedded in the man's skull in with a crack of a sound. He drops like a sack of shit, and Claire spits on him. "Ugh, he smelled like old cheese."

"I don't think hygiene is high up on anyone's list here." Leon makes a face, moving over, "you okay?"

"Fine." She smiles at him. He leans over to pick up his discarded things, and wrench the blade from the dead man's skull. "We need keys, there's no way we're getting through those locks." He sighs. Every time, it was always search for the key. At least there were no ridiculous puzzles – not yet anyway.

It was too dangerous to split up, so instead they move quickly. Running corridors, taking out anyone they encountered. Checking them for likely looking sets of keys. Turning a corner they find three men charging back at them. Leon rolls forward, dodging gunfire and drawing the Katana from it's sheath on his back. He cuts the throat of one with barely an effort, switches hands in a fluid motion and drives the blade smoothly through the neck of another. The blade cut through flesh and bone like butter. Claire runs up behind him, steps off of his crouched back as he kneels and leaps a high knee in to the face of the third, smashing his nose and sending him sprawling. She lands on her feet over him and fires a single downward shot in to his skull. Leon smirks, getting back up. She looks at him and he winks at her – that was kinda fun.

Onward, they tear through rooms, using his knife to open drawers. Paperwork and files scattered, until finally, hanging from a wall. "This has to be them." He grabs the big brass ring of keys and checks them over. It looked right. He prayed it was.

A massive boom rocks the entire place, causing them to lose their footing. How the hell do you shake a mountain? What were they doing up there? Railgun? There'd be a hole in the side of the place if they had. Maybe they'd hit some kind of fuel tank. A theory pretty much confirmed as the stink of gasoline filters through the tunnels. They hurry back to the cell block, encountering more hostiles as they go – between them they dispatch them with expert precision. They worked better together than even he remembered.

"You're pretty fucking good at close quarters.." he says to her as they round a corner at a jog.

"Learned fast," she answers, "people keep sticking me in prisons on islands."

He lifts an eyebrow and they keep going. He'd ask her about that later. For Claire, It was like getting a compliment from a grand master – watching him move was incredible. He did things she didn't know people could do outside of movies. He quite literally bounced off of walls, it was kinda intimidating to keep up with.

They round the turn in to the cell block and he grabs the keys from his belt. Claire draws her gun and keeps watch as he begins trying them. This could be a process, but it was their only option. The padlocks on the doors were way too heavy for any of the firepower they had and even though he had explosive charges on him, he didn't want to use them unless there was no other option. Explosives underground would be a massive risk, however much this looked like a real building now, it was still a mountain. A cave in was the last thing they needed.

He gets the first door open and is greeted with an empty, stinking room.

Next. Claire fires two shots and an assailant goes down. He gets the lock undone and doesn't even get a chance to open the door as a Hunter bursts from it in a flurry of teeth and claws. Of course, of course they'd fucking done this. He's thrown to the ground with the beast on top of him. He hears Claire go to shoot and yells at her not to while fending the thing off. If it was one of the ones from that ship – its blood was corrosive and he'd be covered in it. The thing roars in his face, rancid breath as he holds it back, getting his knee under it, he shoves it from him with a growl of effort and brute strength. He draws his knife from its sheath and rolls over it, driving the blade through the soft part of its thick skull. It screeches and claws at him, slicing through the top of his arm.

"Leon!" Claire reacts as he's wounded. He twists the blade with a growl and yanks it free, falling back.

"Now!" He yells at her.

Claire opens fire on the beast, riddling it with holes and finally killing the thing. He tosses away his knife as it begins to disintegrate. Replacing it with the one from his boot.

"It bleeds acid?!" Claire exclaims, the pooling blood was a dark, forest green and the floor beneath it begins to corrode also.

"Yep." he checks the wound on his arm, it was a deep gash, but he'd live. Leaving it to bleed he gets up and eyes the remaining doors. Time for strategy. He gives Claire his magnum so she has two and with him opening them, she shoots down whatever tries to burst from the rooms. They encounter another Hunter and take it down swiftly. Two empty rooms – and at last.

"Chris!" Claire's relieved cry makes Leon smile inwardly as she races in to the room and to her brothers side. Leon follows, holding a hand out to Valentine and helping her up from the floor. It's not a jovial, excited reunion. It's somber. These people were wiped out from lack of food, no sleep and stress.

"You guys holding up okay?" He asks as they blink against the sudden light.

"Honestly? I thought we were dead.." Jill wearily sighs. He gives her a little sympathetic smile and moves to kneel at Redfield's side. The man was a little worse for wear, he looked sick and grouchy and miserable. The bad blood was still boiling hot though, it seemed, as the only look Chris gives Leon is one of distaste. They take a minute, letting Claire give him water and something for the pain from her backpack. While she works on her brother, Leon checks the remaining men.

Everyone tired, stressed out.

"What's happening up there?" Chris asks, finally on his feet.

"Decoy, four BSAA squads are diverting attention." Leon explains, "we came in through the tunnel system, and it's how we're getting out."

"We'll have to follow your lead, we haven't been anywhere other than this cell and..." Jill trails off and Leon glances at her, reloading one of his guns, he hands it to her.

"We saw." he says quietly. Jill takes the weapon and looks down at it. Sometimes there were no words for the things you went through, and everybody in this room understood that.

They arm them with weapons stolen from the men they'd killed, and Leon checks the mapping device on his arm before checking in on the comms. "We've got them. How are things going up there?"

"We blocked the entrance, there's reinforcements coming up the mountain but they wont be getting in to you." The Captain responds.

"So that's what that explosion was." Leon muses.

"You'll still have to deal with whoever is left inside."

"We got it." He nods. Looking to the others. A little water, some fresher air and the prospect of freedom had woken them up. "Keep them busy. Thirty minutes."

"Roger."

Leon looks to Claire, who finishes patching up one of the other men. She'd proven invaluable on this mission, especially now. So far, everything had gone completely according to plan. Sometimes, they were just really fucking good at their jobs.

With everybody ready, they head out.

What do you get when you team Leon Kennedy, Jill Valentine, Claire & Chris Redfield?

You get a fucking death squad. They sweep through the tunnels, following the marker on Leon's mapping device. Laying waste to every hostile they encounter with ease. From hapless guards to armed men playing soldier – to the salivating beasts unleashed in the hopes of stopping them. Everything's destroyed and moved past.

Leon pauses to crack some glow sticks, passing them around as they leave the man made system and enter the caves. They move slower – he'd warned them about the Licker-like creatures they'd encountered earlier. The rushing sound of the waterfall and their extraction point grows louder the deeper in to the tunnels they advance. It couldn't be far.

"You brought my sister in to this?" Chris says quietly at Leon's side, Jill and Claire bringing up the rear of their small party.

"You think I had the option of stopping her?" Leon retorts. He hadn't forgotten – right now, rescuer or not – they were not friends.

"How did she even find out about the mission?"

Leon grits his teeth. "It wasn't exactly top secret, they broadcast that shit globally."

"So she what, called you up and asked to tag along?"

"Not exactly."

"Then what?"

"Why does it matter?" Leon sighs, "we're here, rescuing your ungrateful ass."

"Don't think this makes us friends." Chris snaps.

Leon rolls his eyes. "Wouldn't dream of it."

"You cocky little dipshit. I haven't forgotten what you did to her."

"I didn't think you would."

"Why was she even with you?"

"Because I was helping her with a TerraSave expedition, we were helping the refugees in Lanshiang together. Happy?"

"Together?"

Leon looks to the ceiling in exasperation. "Figure it out for yourself, tough guy."

Chris grasps his arm, stopping him. "If you touch her.."

"Too late." Leon holds his gaze, then shrugs out of it, continuing to walk.

"And so you dragged her in to this with you? What a fucking hero." Chris hisses after him.

"She wanted to help save your thick hide." Leon snaps back at him. "You think I can stop her doing anything? She heard about the mission and she wanted on it, I couldn't say no."

"The same way she couldn't say no to you pushing yourself on her in Harvardville?"

Leon rounds on him angrily, getting in his face. "Eat shit. I never pushed her in to anything."

"Whoa! Guys.. now is not the time!" Jill interjects from behind them.

"Chris, stop. It wasn't like that!" Claire backs her up.

Chris shoves him regardless and Leon backs up a single step.

"I know you, its what you do. Eat women up and spit them out, you don't get to do that to my sister, she told me all about it!"

"Chris no, that's not what happened!" Claire raises her voice.

"Go fuck yourself, I should have left you in there." Leon snarls, turning away and continuing on the path.

"Walking away, what you do best." Chris shouts after him.

"Guys seriously! This is not the fucking time for a pissing contest!" Jill snaps.

"Someone has to get us out of here." Leon calls back over his shoulder, "sure as shit weren't doing it yourselves."

"Fuck you." Chris retorts.

"No thanks. You're not the right Redfield." Leon turns to face him and responds with a smile and a shrug as he backs out in to a chamber, flooded by the noise of the raging waterfall hitting the lagoon far below.

It's the worst possible response he could have given, he knew that, and yet it just came out. Chris charges through the restraint of Jill and Claire. Amazing what adrenaline could do for a man. He football tackles Leon to the ground. Leon catches him and despite the other man having weight advantage, their strength was pretty evenly matched.

An all out brawl breaking out in a war zone.

Chris gets the upper hand, throwing a punch right in Leon's jaw. "I'll fucking kill you."

"Chris stop!" Claire screams at him. The remaining members of the squad try to tear him off, but he shoves them away, his hands going around Leon's throat. Leon drives a knee up into his groin, catching him hard and shoving the big man off of him.

"This isn't about Claire," Leon snaps, "it's about Ada."

Chris rolls to his knees, struggling to catch a breath. Getting kneed in the balls always took the air out of you. It was a low blow but Leon could play dirty when he had to.

"Its about both of them. You betraying me over that bitch Wong, and using Claire!" Chris snarls.

"I love your sister, I'd never use her.." Leon admits. The words just coming out in anger and frustration.

"What?" Redfield laughs. "The only thing you love is that is that treacherous cunt, Ada Wong."

Jill holds Claire back from getting involved, shaking her head. When two men needed to go, they needed to go. What she doesn't realize is Chris' words stabbing Claire through the heart.

"Helena told me all about it. Throwing yourself off a building to save her, putting the whole mission in jeopardy. You choose that bitch every time. If she walked in right now, you'd drop Claire like a bad habit. We all know it."

"You don't know shit about me." Leon growls back at him. "You don't know how I feel about either of them. None of you do.." he looks to the others. "It wasn't Ada that killed your men, you fucking moron. You were played that day, we all were. Ada saved us. And yes.. I love her. Alright? I'm sorry I tried to protect someone I care about. I'd do the same for Claire."

Chris laughs, pushing himself to his feet. He looks at his sister. "What do you see in this sack of shit?"

Leon and Claire look at one another. The look on Claire's face was pained.

"He'll drop you. Soon as Ada rears her ugly head. He'll use you like last time and he'll throw you away the second she crawls back."

"Chris, stop.." Jill says sadly.

Leon shakes his head, turning away. "We have an extraction to make. We don't have time for this."

"See? He'll never even give you a straight answer." Chris continues to stick the knife in. Claire breaks away from Jill and runs after Leon.

"That was not cool, Redfield." Jill shakes her head at him.

"Leon!" Claire catches up to him at the edge of the waterfall. He peers over it into the lagoon below.

"Hell of a jump." Leon answers her, changing the subject. "hitting the water wrong could be real bad. Hope they're up to it."

She gently takes his arm. "Is that true?"

"Is what true?" He sighs, looking back to her.

"You love her?"

"I can't argue about this any more." His shoulders sag, "can we just get the hell out of here?"

"And me?"

"Claire.." he moves away as Chris and Jill and the rest of the team emerge in to the waterfalls cavern.

"Jump off a cliff, this was your master plan?" Chris taunts.

"Well I don't see anyone coming up with anything better." Leon sighs. "Its a deep lagoon, we'll be fine if we hit the water right."

He glances at Claire, standing at the edge of the fall.

Leon sees the creature a second too late, as it's claws reach out from the shadow. It leaps from the wall and crashes in to her.

Claire's scream echoes through the chamber as she's plunged backwards off the edge.


	18. I Would For You

Authors Note: Ahh, the struggle of moving things along. Couple of comments about the Leon/Chris fight coming out of nowhere – despite the last time they saw each other being on the cusp of throwing down again. I did actually write a whole segment with them glaring at each other as they made their way through the tunnels. But it felt like a drag so I axed it. Sometimes the balance can be hard to find between moving along the story and fleshing things out enough. Lets just say Chris was in a baaaaad mood, and betrayal runs deep. Besides.. their fight isn't the point of the story.

This is...

* * *

 **Don't be afraid**  
 **I've taken my beating**  
 **I've shared what I've made**  
 **I'm strong on the surface**  
 **Not all the way through**  
 **I've never been perfect**  
 **But neither have you**

 **When my time comes**  
 **Forget the wrong that I've done**  
 **Help me leave behind some**  
 **Reasons to be missed**  
 **Don't resent me**  
 **And when you're feeling empty**  
 **Keep me in your memory**  
 **Leave out all the rest**

 **\- Linkin Park**

* * *

Leon doesn't think about it for even a second. As she vanishes over the waterfall in the clutches of that monster, he sprints to the edge after her. Launching from the slippery rock and leaping far enough to clear the barrage of falling water, he braces and crashes feet first into the lagoon. It swallows him whole – he was a strong swimmer and even he struggles against the current, fighting his way back to the surface against the pull. When he breaks for air, he gasps and looks around. Looking for her. "CLAIRE!"

From above, gunshots. Chris and Jill and the team opening fire on more of the creatures as they swarmed over the roof of the cavern. Leon dives, searching in the murky, cloudy water. A desperation sinking in to the core of him. Not like this. It couldn't end like this. He surfaces, grabbing another lungful of air and diving again, swimming down, pleading with whoever was listening that he'd find her. He reaches an underwater outcrop of rock and pulls himself around it. Nothing.

Suddenly claws dig in to his back and teeth sink in to his shoulder. He growls under water and wrenches his knife from it's sheath, driving it backward in to the creatures skull. Its tough going with the drag of water. He stabs again and again, fighting this almost human thing off of him. Was it the one that got Claire? He didn't know. He was running out of air. Wrenching himself free from it's grip he makes for the surface. Breaking it and gasping – the gunfire echoes through the chamber and more bodies fall from the ceiling. "CLAIRE!" He yells again, spitting out water. He spots what looks like her jacket, just under the surface several feet away.

He dives again, leaving a trail of blood behind him as it seaped from the new wounds to his shoulder and back. His tactical compression shirt torn by teeth and claws. He didn't feel it. Pain wasn't on his mind. He couldn't give less of a shit about clothes.

The body of one of those creatures lands to his side, sinking down in the water and turning it red in its wake. He sees her. Swimming harder, down, she was sinking and not moving a muscle. A bite wound to her chest. He reaches her and grabs her, wrapping his arm under hers and swimming up with the weight of both of them. He breaks the surface with a gasp and swims hard, dragging her to the shoreline of the waterfall. Hauling her on to slippery rock and out of the water. The gunfight at the top goes on, the waterfall turning blood red as the team dispatches the creatures crawling over the rocks. Leon hears one scuttle to his side and turns to look at it, glaring. He draws the Katana from his back and as he goes to fend it off, it's suddenly shot in the head twice from above.

He looks up, Chris Redfield looking down. No words needed. Chris covers him as Leon begins working on Claire.

He pushes wet hair back from her face, clearing her eyes and her mouth of it. She was bleeding a lot, she'd hit the water hard, who knows what could be broken or if she was concussed. But she'd been under water a long time. Basic CPR. Five breaths. He starts compression's. He breathes for her. To his side more bodies drop dead – he doesn't flinch. His world becomes Claire Redfield. Sounds of the gunfight fading away, the creatures screeches unregistered.

"C'mon.." he whispers to her after he gives her his breath, returning to compression's. Nothing. "Claire, come back baby girl.." he orders her after another breath. His arms ached. He counts compression's through clenched teeth and another creature splatters to his side.

Two breaths.

1, 2, 3, 4.. he counts to 30 as war rages around him.

He breathes. Nothing. "COME ON!" he yells at her this time. She was pale, lifeless.

There's a splash in the water, followed by another. And another. The team making the jump down. The wave of creatures done. Chris drags himself to the shore, Jill a moment after him. Grasping his arm. "He's not doing it right!" Chris objects.

"Its exactly right!" Jill reassures.

Leon doesn't hear them. His world is her. Her pale features, her lips were turning blue. He takes her pulse.

Nothing.

"Don't you fucking do this to me.." He orders her. Shifting his position over her, like more leverage would somehow make a difference.

30 compressions. Breathe.

Nothing.

"CLAIRE!"

"Let me.." Chris tries to drag him away but Leon shoves him, Jill pulls him back. The two arguing. Leon doesn't hear a word of it.

Compressions.

Breathe.

Nothing.

"Don't you give up on me!" He begs her. He legitimately begs her. Chris paces, running his hands over his face.

Compressions.

Breathe.

He was exhausted. His shoulders throbbed and ached. His clothing stained with his own blood. She looked like she was gone, motionless, ashen grey. He clenches his jaw, tears burning his eyes. "You're not going out like this, you hear me?" He grabs her chin, ordering her, "come back!"

Compressions.

Breathe.

Chris crouches down, hands covering his mouth. Jill kneels at his side, comforting. All that went around in Leon's head was 'Don't stop'. Never stop. Keep her here. Keep her alive. He had to. She had to be okay. Or he'd walked her to her death. Chris was right. He shouldn't have let her come, he should have made her stay in China. He should have told her. he should have insisted. She wasn't a fighter she was a healer, she was the heart of all of them. She couldn't leave them.

How would any of them function without a heart?

"Please.." he says it in a sob after a breath. He bows his head, doing compressions steadily, but clenching his eyes shut to the tears that wanted to fall. "Come on."

Breathe.

Nothing.

"CLAIRE!" He yells at her, furious, frustrated, he slams his hand over her heart.

Her body jerks, she chokes and gasps and spits up water. His eyes go wide and he grabs her, turning her on to her side as the water comes up and she retches and fights to get a breath. Chris collapses on to his ass, relief flooding through the other man. When the waters up and she clutches her chest, Leon pulls her back to him. Cradling her in his arms and watching as the color begins to return to her skin and her lips. She was panting. Staring up at him. He smiles back at her, stroking her cheek.

No words. He didn't have any. He just closes his eyes, resting his forehead against hers. Gently rocking her amidst the litter of creature corpses around them. A few feet away, Jill clutches Chris' shoulder, a quiet relief. Redfield watches the other man – handling his sister with such gentle care. He hated what Leon had done. Hated that he'd not told him about Ada, that he'd lied directly to his face about her being dead. Whether she was responsible or not, for the death of his team in Edonia – he should have told him. Told him, explained, something. But lying? There were few things on this earth Chris Redfield hated more than liars. He had no time for people you couldn't trust.

Leon might have just saved his life, but the fury and mistrust he felt toward the man had gone nowhere. He'd let their fight take over this situation – and his sister almost paid the price. Almost.

Because Leon Kennedy had been fast enough and determined enough and one track minded enough to find her amidst the chaos unfolding around them, and bring her back. Chris couldn't help it, he didn't want them together. He didn't want Leon's hands anywhere near Claire. Even if not for the lying, the man was a serial womanizer – he went through them like most people went through hot meals. How could he ever be trusted with Claire? She deserved better.

But he'd saved her life.

He'd lept off a skyscraper to save Ada. He'd thrown himself off a waterfall in the middle of an ambush and saved Claire – he hadn't hesitated. The crazy son of a bitch put others before himself, constantly. For that, Chris couldn't fault him.

The larger man forces himself to his feet, moving over to them. Crouching beside them. He reaches out and gently strokes his hand over Claire's head. She shifts her eyes, looking at him. She was dazed, not speaking, clearly in a lot of pain. But she acknowledges him with a blink.

"There's an extraction waiting?" He asks quietly.

Leon draws in a shaken breath, nodding. "Through the cave tunnel, another.. five minutes. Probably less." He explains wearily. Chris looks around for the way out of this cavern, spotting the dark tunnel that would lead them out.

"You alright?" He asks.

Leon blinks, giving him a tight nod in return. No idea if the other man was about to bite his head off again, if he wanted to start their fight over, yell at him, what.

"Then we should get moving. She needs a doctor." Chris says with a nod back.

They all needed doctors. Leon could feel his blood, hot and sticky along his back and down his chest, running under his torn clothes. His shoulder was a mess, and as he tries to get up still holding her, he winces visibly.

"Let me." Chris says it gently. No aggression this time.

Leon locks eyes with the soldier, wary, exhausted. But there's no more rage there. Reluctantly, he agrees. Chris carefully lifts Claire from his arms, getting to his feet.

Jill offers Leon a hand and he takes it, not too proud to be helped up.

"Yeesh, that's nasty.." She says quietly, checking his shoulder bite. "What the hell are those things?" She looks around at the scattered bodies.

"I don't know. Some kind of Licker variant.. I think.." he grimaces. They looked like broken, contorted humans that dribbled slime and had much larger mouths than humans. Stronger jaws. Claws for hands. They were unsettling to look at.

"Got nothing to patch this up with," Jill looks back to his wounds.

"I'll be alright, it's not far now." He nods.

Jill gives him a little smile. "You did good today."

"I did?" he asks wearily.

"We're all still here." She hitches a shoulder.

He doesn't say anything. After this, he was likely going to be fired anyway. Truthfully, he didn't care. He felt exhausted. Drained. It wasn't just from the fight – it was from everything. He didn't just battle monsters, he battled his friends, he battled his heart, and it felt constant. It had certainly been six of the worst months of his life, if they wanted to fire him, they were welcome to.

With a heavy sigh he sheaths the Katana. Checks on his gun. He'd lost one of them somewhere along the line, probably in the water. Was down to a clip and his sword. His knife had vanished too, along with half the things in his utility belt - lost to the lagoon. The whole group was down to nothing. He touches his fingers to the comms, contacting the Captain. "Making our way out now, ETA.. 5 minutes." He instructs. Looking at Claire, curled up in her brothers arms. She looked so tiny when he held her. His baby sister.

Leon's mind drifts to Sherry as the group begin to walk. He understood it, Chris' need to protect. He felt the same about Sherry. If some guy broke her heart, he'd break his face. If some guy treated her badly, he'd hunt him down. Caring was caring, there was nothing bad there. And he understood the man felt betrayed – lied to. He got it. Honestly, he agreed with it. He'd made some shitty decisions this year, all out of personal want. Personal feeling. He could have done so many things differently. Maybe he could have saved Lizzie.

Maybe he could have rescued Ada without lying to Chris.

Maybe he could have not ruined Helena.

Maybe he could have saved Adam.

Maybe he could have stopped Tatchi.

Maybe. Maybe.

He brings up the rear of the group, staying a few feet behind them, not joining in with their talk as they walk. The outsider, and he always would be. And that was okay.

Daylight breaks in to the tunnel, signalling the end of this hell ride. The sound of the chopper blades outside is heartening, it seems to lift everyones spirits. As they round a turn they see the entrance to the cave, their ride out of there on a rocky outcrop next to the river bank. The relief in the others is palpable. But something stops Leon in his tracks.

He looks back over his shoulder.

He listens.

The clawing, scurrying sound. The screeches getting swiftly louder. He looks to the group now a good twenty feet ahead.

"RUN!"

They all look back at him as he turns his back on them and starts firing in to the dark. The screeches as bullets hit the oncoming wave reach their ears. If the creatures caught up to them, they'd swarm the chopper before they got a chance to load in Claire. "GO!" Leon yells over his shoulder at them.

If he could do one thing.

Chris, Jill, Claire and the other two squad members break out of the tunnel in to open air. Racing toward the helicopter. Leon fires until the clip's almost empty. Then turns around, hurling the charges at the mouth of the tunnel. He draws the Katana.

"What are you doing?!" Jill yells back at him.

"I have to stop them. Get outta here!" He shouts his response.

"Leon, no!"

"If they swarm the chopper.. you're all dead."

"But.."

"NOW!" he bellows.

Save her.

No time. There was no time. He could practically feel their breaths down the back of his neck. With the others clear, and with no detonator, he fires the last shot at the explosives. They ignite, bringing the entrance to the tunnel in on itself. Leon turns as the first of the creatures hurls itself at him. He brings up the sword, slicing through it with ease. Letting out a warriors yell he surges forward, back in to the belly of the beast. He might go down, but he was taking as many of these fucking abominations with him as he could.

"We can't leave him!" Jill shouts as they load Claire carefully in to the chopper, "Call for backup! SOMETHING!" She yells at the pilot.

Chris grits his teeth as the cave entrance crumbles, getting his sister comfortable. "Crazy son of a bitch.." He hisses. The frustration of a soldier with no weapons left is impossible to convey. Claire begins to come around a little more in his arms, asking for Leon. "Get some fucking backup, NOW!" Chris yells.

Leon battles his way back to the cavern chamber, getting space to fight these things. He was bitten, bloody, clawed. His body a savaged wreck. But somehow, as he faces down another of these creatures, he smiles.

"That all you got?!" He spits at them. Beckoning. Another leaps from the wall and he impales it straight through the middle. Dropping to a knee he slices it's guts out and splatters them across the stone floor. He rolls, slicing through another, driving that sword forward and through another's skull. It was satisfying, it was an unleashing of frustration and rage. Of everything built up in him over the last six months. Hell, over the last twenty years.

Those sons of bitches killed her, and nobody would ever answer for it.

He lets out a warcry of anger, driving that sword in to the throat of a beast.

One leaps on to his back, sinking its teeth in to his neck. He cries out in pain and grabs it, hurling it over his shoulder and driving the sword in to it's chest. He falls to a knee. Exhausted. Bleeding. But as another charges at him he forces himself back up. He couldn't stop. He never had been able to. He couldn't lay down and die. Leon Kennedy was a fighter.. to the bitter, painful, bloody end. Three more bear down on him, showing him their teeth,

So he shows them his. "I'm not a fucking buffet.." he hisses. "I hope you choke on me."

There's a whistle. Someone whistles.

Someone whistles and the creatures begin to back off. Leaving a ready to die Leon Kennedy wavering on exhausted feet. Frowning. Confused.

"Mr Kennedy..."

A voice. Leon wobbles, looking around him, bringing the sword back up. A figure steps from the shadows, dressed entirely in black with nothing but his eyes showing. "We meet at last."

"Who the fuck are you?" he asks in a pant.

"You don't recognize me?"

He blinks. Blood in his eyes. "Should I?"

"I believe you saw my little.. home movie."

Leon snarls, brandishing the blade. "So what are you, the big cheese? Pissed off I sank your little boat?"

"You've cost me a lot of money."

"What can I say, I'm an expensive guy."

"You're also not very funny."

"And The Order is a fucking stupid name." Leon retorts.

The man in black smirks under his mask, drawing a machete from it's sheath behind his back. Leon fixes his grip on the Katana.

"All of life is a game of chess, Mr Kennedy. Some moves.."

"Do you people ever get tired of your stupid metaphors? Shut the fuck up."

The man in black swings his weapon casually. Leon moves to the side. His opponent makes a real swing.

Metal clashes against metal, echoing in the chamber. He's exhausted, his body searing pain, but he can't stop. He defends. He holds his assailant back. His relentless, determined attacker. Their blades crash together. The other man laughs.

"What's funny?" Leon hisses, backstepping, circling.

"You really don't know when to quit, do you?"

"I guess not."

"Ada warned me about that."

"Ada?!" Leon blinks, his guard falling for a second at the mention of Ada's name.

How fitting, that her name would become Leon Kennedy's last words.

The creature leaps from the wall behind him, teeth and claws sinking in to his back. As the man in black surges forward, swiping the blade of his machete in to Leons abdomen. Slicing him open. He drags the blade across and then twirls it in his hand, wiping it off with a cloth as Leon falls to his knees.

"Unimpressive." The man in black tuts.

Leon falls on to his back, his eyes coming to rest on the ceiling of the cavern. The rush of the waterfall behind him, a loud roar in his ears. Was that the waterfall? Or was it just the life leaving him? He blinks. So this is what it felt like. Like sinking in to sand. Like gentle hands pulling you away, soothing you to sleep. The pain ceases to matter, it got to a point he felt nothing anymore.

The man in black stands over him, watching the life fade from his eyes.

But he isn't who Leon sees.

He sees Elizabeth. A vision in white. She smiles, those emerald eyes comforting. Taking away the fear.

She kneels down beside him and offers him her hand.


	19. Beyond Repair

**Authors Note:** It's not just the wounds that are messy. Thankyou for the love notes, as always, appreciated.

* * *

 **Tell me would you kill to save a life?**  
 **Tell me would you kill to prove you're right?**  
 **Crash, crash, burn, let it all burn**  
 **This hurricane's chasing us all underground**

 **No matter how many deaths that I die I will never forget**  
 **No matter how many lives that I live, I will never regret**  
 **There is a fire inside of this heart and a riot about to explode into flames**

 **Where did you go?**

 **\- 30 seconds to mars**

* * *

 _Leon falls on to his back, his eyes coming to rest on the ceiling of the cavern. The rush of the waterfall behind him, a loud roar in his ears. Was that the waterfall? Or was it just the life leaving him? He blinks. So this is what it felt like. Like sinking in to sand. Like gentle hands pulling you away, soothing you to sleep. The pain ceases to matter, it got to a point he felt nothing anymore._

 _The man in black stands over him, watching the life fade from his eyes._

 _But he isn't who Leon sees._

 _He sees Elizabeth. A vision in white. She smiles, those emerald eyes comforting. Taking away the fear. She kneels down beside him and offers him her hand._

"I think I messed up, kid.." he whispers to her, gently taking Lizzie's hand in his own. The sounds of the world melt away, he could feel himself slipping. It wasn't an unpleasant feeling at all, it felt like a relief in many ways. No more pain, no more fighting. It was over, his watch done, and he could finally rest.

Her smile soothed his battle worn soul, her silken blonde hair and emerald eyes more beautiful than he remembered. Was she his angel, then? Come to take him away from all of this horror?

"I'm sorry I let you down." He adds.

Lizzie shakes her head, squeezing his hand ever so gently. "You didn't let me down, you saved me."

"I let you die."

"You set me free. You believed in me."

"I didn't know what they were going to do."

"It wasn't your fault, and I'm okay." She smiles, lifting her other hand to carefully tuck his hair back from his eyes. A soothing, sweet gesture.

"I couldn't save you."

"Saving people is all you do.. and you did. I was alone for so long, afraid – for so long. You believed me, you had faith in me when nobody else did. You gave me hope." A single tear drips from her eye, "you give so many people hope."

It was getting dark. He blinks. It was a strange, fading sensation.

"You have to hold on." Lizzie whispers, "you're not done yet. It's not your time."

"But I'm so tired." He murmurs, his voice felt weak – far away.

"I know you are. But you have something left to do." She strokes her hand over his cheek. He struggles to focus on her. Everything was blurring.

"I don't know if I can."

"You can. You'll change it all."

"I don't understand." His eyes felt heavy, like he was in the middle of sleep.

"You will. You have to go back." She lifts his hand, bringing it to her lips and carefully kissing his knuckle. "Look for the lightning."

He didn't understand.

The darkness surrounds and Lizzie slips away, covered in shadow.

Peace.

* * *

 **Washington D.C – April 2014**

 **3 Months since Yakushima**

Sherry visited him every single day, since they'd transported him back from Japan. She still remembered vividly receiving the news – that Leon had gone against his suspension and led a rescue mission to an island infested with BOW's, going up against a dangerous black market operation in a bid to save Jill Valentine and Chris Redfield. In that, he had been successful. But the true cost was yet to be seen. He'd been gravely injured.

The BSAA Captain that had led the decoy assault on Yakushima quickly diverted forces at Redfield and Valentines request, arriving personally on scene to clear the collapsed cave entrance and retrieve Leon from the waterfall cavern under the mountain. But they had discovered him close to death. His injuries severe. Multiple bite and claw marks from a hoarde of savage new creatures – and a single, horizontal slice across his abdomen. Deep, life threatening, he'd almost bled to death right there in that cave and was completely non responsive.

They'd extracted him and gotten him to the nearest hospital, calling in their own doctors and surgeons to work on him.

He died.

Leon's heart stopped five times before they got it back to a regular rhythm. Everybody thought he was lost. Sherry had cried and mourned, told that if he survived the night it would be nothing short of a miracle. Everybody back in the USA had expected the worst news, they'd been waiting by their phones for it – or in the case of Jill Valentine and Chris Redfield, sitting in the same hospital by the bedside of Claire, dreading that doctor walking in to tell them he had passed.

Claire had suffered injuries from her fall too. A concussion, fluid on her lungs, a broken arm and a couple of broken ribs. But she'd been awake – alive, because of Leon. And waiting for that news had been worse than any of the other pain she'd been in.

Leon survived the night, against all the odds. So it became about surviving the next twelve hours, then the next day. He held on. They gave him multiple blood transfusions and a handful of surgeries to repair the damage from the machete strike. He was declared 'lucky' as time went on. Though Sherry failed to see how anything about the situation was remotely lucky. Two weeks after it happened, he was transferred back to the USA on a private Government plane to an exclusive facility. That's where he stayed, under the best medical care the US had to offer. Sleeping. A coma induced by blood loss and trauma. They weren't sure if he'd wake up, though the fact that he could breathe on his own was apparently a good sign.

The room they had him in was filled with cards and flowers. He'd probably hate it, but Sherry kept it neat, kept every note anyone sent, kept every card and gift. And there were a lot. For a man that thought he was alone in the world, there were so many that knew him, respected him, or had even been helped by him at one point or another. The world they lived in prayed for him to pull through. Even the former Presidents daughter, Ashley Graham, visited more than once. He was more valuable to the world than he knew.

The BSAA declared him a hero. The Government would soon follow in that sentiment. His suspension was never brought up – funny how sacrificing yourself to save others could change opinions, especially once the public got hold of it. Yakushima was taken back from The Order in a series of co-ordinated attacks. It's shadowy leader fleeing off the radar – though he became one of Americas most wanted.

Chris Redfield and Jill Valentine recovered from their injuries and returned to duty, they stopped by to visit him whenever they could. Claire spent a little time in hospital herself, before being released and resuming her job with TerraSave. She visited Leon once – then returned to Lanshiang to continue her rescue work. Sherry thought it a little strange, she'd heard rumor the two of them were a thing. Why wouldn't you want to stay by the bedside of the man you loved? Maybe the rumors hadn't been true after all.

A big bunch of red roses arrived, a card that simply said "I know you can pull through this" signed with a red lipstick kiss. Sherry kept it all, taking photos of things too, just in case he didn't wake up in time to see them. He'd likely grumble about all the fuss, but it made her feel useful. He had no family, nobody to take care of him or these things. She felt like she was the only one, and it was a responsibility she took on with pride. She looked after his apartment, took care of his bills. He was going to wake up, she was sure of it. He didn't need a pile of crappy things to wake up to.

Work were surprisingly lenient with her, not sending her out on any assignments. Treating her almost as though she were Leon's family, and she needed to be close to home just in case. Instead, she worked mostly behind a desk. It was dull, and a waste of her talents, but it meant she got to stay put – and hope.

She finishes up for the day and switches out the lamp at her desk, grabbing a couple of files that needed to be left at reception for Mr Hoult and pulling on her jacket. She'd grab some food and go to the hospital, check in on him, hang out a little bit. It was the same routine every day and she did it faithfully. She closes up her office door behind her and heads down the hall, slowing up as she sees who's standing at the end of it. She purses her lips and passes with her head down, but unfortunately..

"Sherry!"

She stops and rolls her eyes, looking back as Helena comes over to her. "Can I talk to you for a second?"

"What do you want?" Sherry asks flatly.

Helena grimaces, "I just.. wanted to ask how Leon was doing."

A withering glance. "He's in a coma, how do you think he's doing?"

Helena looks suitably awkward, tucking her hands in to the back pockets of her pants. "Well, have the doctors said anything? Is he making any progress?"

"He's been the same for three months." Sherry answers.

"I was thinking of maybe visiting."

"Do you really think that'd be a good idea?"

Helena bows her head, sighing heavily. "I feel bad for everything that happened."

"You feel bad now he's sick. You were practically wishing death upon him before. What's the matter, guilty conscience?" Sherry folds her arms.

"Maybe," Helena admits.

"Well that's what happens when you behave like a psychopath when a man doesn't want you." Sherry scolds the older woman. Helena opens her mouth to retort and meets the girls eyes, something scathing wanting to come out. But it doesn't. Because she was right – even Helena knew she'd over reacted and behaved like an asshole. The man didn't deserve it.

"I was really messed up, after China. Losing my sister. I behaved like.."

"A crazy person?"

"Yeah. I wanted something that wasn't there, I admit that." Helena nods, "he's a good man."

"He is. He didn't deserve you dragging him through the mud like that."

"I didn't mean to."

"You told people he treated you badly!" Sherry raises her voice, "you legitimately tried to ruin his reputation. I think it's probably best if you stay away, save your apologies."

Helena stares at her, then tucks a little of her hair back behind her ear, nodding. "You're right." She says quietly. "I'll let you go. Just.. I hope he pulls through. If there's anything I can do.."

Sherry unfolds her arms and goes to turn away. "You can tell people you were full of shit about him, that'd be a start." She says flatly, then walks away. Slapping the files down on the front desk as she goes, she marches to the elevator and away from that woman. Helena Harper might be one of the top Agents in the DSO now, but that didn't earn her a single scrap of respect from Sherry Birkin.

Sherry's angry all the way through the drive through and to the medical facility. Stomping in to the elevator and up to his floor. She knew all of the nurses by name now, but still flashes security her DSO ID as she passes though, total habit. Visiting hours didn't apply to her. She says her hellos as she passes through, then reaches his room, letting herself in. She finds a nurse inside, the covers pulled back as she changes the dressing on his substantial wound. "Should I come back?" She asks.

"It's alright, nearly done," the nurse smiles back at her, finishing the clean up. Sherry places her things down on the nearby armchair and grimaces. The wound started at his hip where it was at it's deepest – a machete apparently, dug in to his side then sliced across. Some asshole had literally tried to cut him in half. She had to pray karma was a real thing. The stitches ran all the way across his abdomen to the opposite hip bone. The scar would be impressive, once it was healed. For now, it had been a process. A few surgeries to put it and the internal damage right, an infection had gotten in to it last month. But now it seemed to be back on track with healing.

While the nurse works, Sherry goes through the mail that had arrived. A few more cards, she stands them up near the window.

There's a small groan. And it's from neither of them. It makes both women hesitate, looking at his face.

"Leon?" She nurse says gently.

Sherry holds her breath, her hand paused above one of the cards. She could swear his breathing seemed to quicken a little. The oxygen mask over his face clouding over a little quicker. Then he makes another small sound.

"Leon, can you hear me?" The nurse moves up to his head and checks monitors, then looks down at his face.

Sherry's stomach fills with butterflies.

Another groan.

Her hands go over her mouth. Praying.

"Leon!" The nurse presses her hand over his sternum, a pressure point designed to bring people around.

His eyelids flicker and Sherry can't help the tears that well in her eyes.

He opens his.

* * *

It's like emerging from a thick, dark fog. A fog he'd slipped in to he didn't know how long ago. The last thing he remembered was Lizzie's face, telling him it wasn't his time. The next, the steady beep of a heart monitor had been the first thing to come back. If it was a hangover, it was the worst one he had ever had. His entire body ached and that feeling came back bit by bit. For a while, he felt like he couldn't move, but it was just his body catching up to his mind, realizing it was awake now. His head pounded, his mouth bone dry, his throat felt like sand paper. He struggles his eyes open and they felt full of sand, for the first few blinks he can't see shit. Was he blind?

Not blind. The light creeps in and he hears their voices. One unfamiliar.. one.. Sherry? Where was he? He wasn't in the cave anymore. There was no waterfall. No stench of blood and death.

Each breath hurt.

Suddenly there's a man in a white coat standing over him, shining a torch into his eyes. He blinks away from it. Dazed, confused. They talk over him.

"What's happening?" he rasps in a voice that felt like it hadn't been used in months.

"Leon?"

"Yeah.."

"You're at a medical facility in Washington D.C."

How in the fuck did he get there? His instinct is to move, to get up, to get back to business. But the second he tries to sit up he's hit with the most intense pain he's ever felt, and a lot of people telling him not to move. It's daunting, frightening. Those first few hours were the worst. It takes a few of them for reality to seep back in, for him to start taking the world in again. For senses to return to normal. It's a process, they run what feels like a hundred checks on him. You have no idea how good iced water tastes until you haven't had a thing pass your lips in months.

Months. The news that he'd been in a coma for three fucking months is a lot to process. But he wasn't dead. Somehow, once again, he'd survived when most people would have perished. Beaten the odds. A lucky roll of the dice. Maybe he should go to Las Vegas some time and see how much more luck he had. If you could call anything about this lucky. Once the medical staff are done fussing, Sherry fills him in on what had happened.

She'd taken care of his apartment, his everything. He owed her one, in the biggest way.

"Everybody's visited, even Ashley." Sherry smiles at him, she'd been showing him the cards and things that had arrived. Honestly, it was a surprise to see. It felt good, in a completely surreal 'is this actually happening to me?' way.

"What about Claire?" he asks quietly. They'd made him comfortable, pumped him full of painkillers. Even though he was awake, apparently it would be a while before he could go home.

Sherry dips her eyes away from him at the mention of Claire's name. Nodding. "She's alright, she's back at work. She had some injuries but she's better now."

He frowns a little. "Has she visited?"

Sherry nods, "yeah, she came after she was released."

He hesitates. Something about Sherry's tone felt off. "Oh."

"She returned to China. Where she is now." Sherry elaborates a bit.

That kinda stung. But he supposed nobody should put their life on hold just because his was.

"I don't want to pry but.. were you guys..?"

His eyebrows jump, he reaches for the glass of iced water beside him. "I don't know." He answers, "I thought.. maybe. I guess it wasn't official or anything."

"There were just rumors. I was sorta surprised when she just.. left."

He swallows a sip and nods. "Well, can't put yourself on pause for someone else I guess."

Sherry looks up at him. It was what she'd done, utterly put her life on hold because he'd needed someone. Family. Because he had none.

Maybe Claire blamed him for her injuries. Or hated him because of Ada. Or maybe it all just got too hard, too much, too fast. He needed to talk to her. Seemed like he'd missed out on a lot in three months.

It's a few days before he's up on his feet. After so long in a bed, it was like learning how to do everything again. He'd never felt so vulnerable in his life, the pain in his middle was like nothing he'd ever felt before, reminding him every time he moved that he was lucky to be alive. If lucky was really the word for it. The body he'd worked so hard at all his life had slipped in to a decline, he couldn't wait to be strong enough to get back in to the gym, he hated feeling weak and like he couldn't lift his own bodyweight. But this entire thing would be a process. He could either take it as a challenge or sink further in to a mire.

Looking at himself in the mirror, he barely recognized the man staring back at him. His hair had darkened, it looked almost black. He wasn't sure why, maybe there really had been something strange in the water out there. Or maybe it was just his body freaking out from being asleep so long, or not seeing a shred of sunshine in three months. He'd lost a bunch of weight and muscle mass, even his eyes seemed to have lost their blue and looked a more gunmetal grey.

On the day he's released, two weeks later, he puts on clothes Sherry brought him from home and they kinda hang from him. "Time to hit the Redfield diet.." he grimaces, at least he didn't have to wear jeans and a belt. Sweatpants only for now, they were all that went comfortably over his wound. He gets on a t shirt and hoodie and feels drowned in them. Packing up the few things Sherry had brought him from home. He'd had numerous phone calls since waking up, every single person he knew had been in contact with him. Happy to hear he was awake and alright.

Everyone but Claire.

He'd left her a couple of voice messages, but no response. It hurt, he couldn't say it didn't. But maybe she was just really busy, and he wasn't the kind of guy that chased a woman that didn't want to be chased. If it was over, then it was over.

Sherry was picking him up, so he waits, sitting on the edge of the bed he'd called home for a total of four months now and going through some of the cards that had been up around the room. He pauses when he reaches one, a simple little thing. It just said _"I know you can pull through this"_ \- but the red lipstick mark told him exactly who it was from. Ada.

He'd almost died – again – because of Ada. Because that man in black had said her name and thrown him off his game for a heartbeat.

Claire didn't want to know he was alive and Ada had almost gotten him killed. He had so many questions, for both of them. But would either ever answer him? He pulls out his phone, putting the cards aside and going through it to the messages, finding Ada's. He hesitates, as he always did when it came to contacting her. She was the only woman alive that he never knew how to approach. He draws a deep breath – his stomach twinges and makes him grimace.

" _I pulled through it._

 _Care to tell me why the man that did this brought up your name?_

 _Leon x"_

"You good to go?" Sherry snaps him from his thoughts, poking her head around the door. He hits send and lifts his head, giving her a smile and a small nod.

"Sure." He eases himself off the edge of the bed and grabs the backpack with his things in it, tucking the cards in to a side pocket.

"Everything okay?" She asks as he draws up to her.

"As its gonna be, I think." He answers quietly. "Thanks, kiddo."

"for what?"

"For this, taking me home, looking out for everything. You didn't have to do any of that."

She smiles back at him. "What family does, right? I don't have a whole lot of it."

He returns that smile and a little nod, lifting a hand to playfully ruffle her hair. "We kinda make our own, huh."

There's a bright twinkle in her eye as she agrees. It was nice to see.

He felt like he moved like an old woman, bending of any kind was uncomfortable and took him a while, so getting in to the car is more of a challenge than he ever thought possible. He can't even fix the seat belt as it sat directly over his wound, so Sherry takes it extra carefully on the drive through the city and to his place. Returning home feels just as weird – like he only just left and yet it was a hundred years ago. He takes the elevator, perhaps for the first time since he'd moved in, he usually ran the stairs as an extra shred of cardio for the day.

"Leon.." His neighbor says his name as they arrive outside his door. It takes him by surprise, he didn't think he'd ever told the man his name.

"Hey, back to make your life hell.." Leon responds with a small laugh.

The other man laughs with him, "don't worry about it. It's good to see you up, I'm glad you're alright man."

Leon blinks, taken aback. "Uh, thanks." he looks to Sherry.

"He's been collecting your mail for me," she explains, "and there was a lot on the news about the situation in Yakushima."

"I didn't know what you did for a living, dude. I'm sorry for the shit I gave you. You're a freakin hero."

The word always made Leon feel awkward, like it didn't apply to him. He never felt like one, mostly he felt like he made nothing but bad decisions and mistakes. But as his former rival extends a hand to shake, he takes it, returning it. "For what its worth, doubt you'll be hearing any noise from me for a while." he thumbs in to his apartment. The guy wishes him well with a laugh.

"Guess things really have changed," he murmurs as he follows Sherry inside, "usually that guys chewing me out for.. well.." he trails off. He didn't need to be talking about his sex life with the person that felt like his little sister. Honestly, she didn't need to hear it. The thought made her flinch in that way it did with family. Those things just weren't something you wanted to know about.

He lets out a sigh of relief as he enters his small apartment. It had never been fancy, he was a pretty simple guy. But it was home, and there really is no place like it. His mail sat on his new coffee table, laid out in piles for different things. She'd taken care of all his bills and responded to things that needed responding to. She'd tidied the place to within an inch of its life, right down to brand new sheets on his bed. Even stocked his new fridge. She'd gone above and beyond. "I owe you one." he murmurs to her, easing in to a chair at the kitchen table as she makes him a coffee.

"Don't be silly."

"I'm serious, without you I'd have woken up to a whole world of shit to handle."

"Well, I wanted you to just focus on getting better." She smiles, setting a mug down in front of him. "The world needs you."

He hesitates as she says that, lifting the cup to his lips. "Heh, if I even still have a job." He looks down at himself, "and right now I don't think I could haul my own bodyweight out of a bath."

She looks at him sympathetically. "Of course you still have a job."

"I violated my suspension, and told Hoult to kiss my ass."

"Well, we've all wanted to tell him that from time to time. You almost died in the line of duty, Leon. And you rescued an entire BSAA squad doing it. Except for you and Claire, there were no serious injuries and they didn't lose anybody that day. Your plan was flawless. Even James admits that."

"He does?"

Sherry smiles at him. "I'll let you speak to him. But I think you'll be surprised."

He eyes her suspiciously. "What do you know?"

She laughs. "You'll see."

He groans, taking a sip of his coffee.

The real question was did he even want to return? Could he? Would he ever be the person he was? He didn't feel like it right now. He felt weak and broken, like his body would never be the same again. His body had always been his finest weapon, he'd honed it, kept it strong. He might not be a muscle man like Redfield but his strength matched any of them. He dedicated a good chunk of every day to keeping it in check, keeping it at the top of its game. And now he felt like a wreck. How long would it take to get back on form? Could he even? They'd told him it would take around six months for the wound to fully heal, and could take up to a year to get back to normal. The muscle in his abs sliced clean through, there was nerve damage on top of it. He might always be in pain.

How could he return to a physically demanding job like that?

He supposed 'One day at a time' was more than just a sobriety mantra. No more making plans, at least not too far ahead, anyway.

Sherry makes him dinner, and it's the first real food he's had in months. Hospital food would never, ever be decent even at a Government medical facility. They eat, and she fills him in on the last four months on planet earth. The simple stuff, like who won Survivor and what good movies had come out. Strange, to have been absent from it all for so long.

Eventually he's left on his own and he decides to take a shower. Stripping off clothes is still a chore, and once he's got them off he stands in front of his bathroom mirror and takes in his body for the first time in months. His collection of new scars was impressive. Bite marks, claw marks, and of course the angry red line from hip to hip. He looked like a road map to hell. "Guess I wont be winning Mr Universe any time soon." he sighs, turning away and switching on the shower water. He groans as he gets in to it, nothing felt better than a hot shower in your own damn home. He rests his hands against the wall and lets it rain down upon him. Washing away the smell of hospital and antiseptic. He feels a little more like himself by the time he's done, wrapping a towel around his waist and brushing his teeth, he gazes at his new dark hair. Maybe it would lighten again once he got back out into the world. Or maybe his hair was just reacting to his mood – dark, a little lost, in pain.

In his bedroom, he finds his leather jacket hanging from a hook on his wardrobe. He'd left it in Tatchi, someone had brought it back. As well as his trusty magnum, salvaged, kept, brought back and sitting neatly on his dresser. It makes him smile, but that smile fades as he wonders who did it. Claire?

Why didn't she want to speak to him? She was the only one. Even Chris had called him more than once, saying they should meet up when he was back in town, put their guns in the ground – so to speak. But Claire had visited one time and he hadn't heard a word from her since he woke up. Nothing. Honestly, it hurt. He weights the magnum in his hand and sighs, putting it back down. He digs his painkillers from his backpack and he chases them with a glass of whiskey.

He deserved a drink, after everything.

* * *

A week after his release, he's called in to the DSO offices to speak with his boss, James Hoult. It's not a conversation Leon looks forward to having. But he supposed it had to happen, sooner or later.

Since returning home, he felt a little stronger. Eating properly and getting some of his strength back, he'd started weights for his arms though he couldn't do too much, he couldn't do nothing, either. He walked everywhere, even if it was painful. Pushing himself was the only way he was ever going to get back to the man he was – if that was even possible. One day at a time.

He found that now and again, his stomach would cramp up. It was a terrible feeling, but he's assured by his doctors that it's just nerves and muscle knitting back together. He had a long road of recovery ahead and he hated it – hated feeling useless.

Still not a word from Claire. And no response from Ada.

Fucking women.

Dressed in a button down shirt, his leather jacket and a pair of jeans with no belt – he heads back in to work. It's surreal, and it's also a gauntlet of shaking peoples hands and 'welcome back's. He wasn't a huge fan of tons of attention, but he handles it. Making it up to the office of James Hoult in one piece, he lets his secretary know he's there. Told to go sit and wait. He does just that, easing himself in to one of the plush chairs and gazing at the artwork on the walls. Old men had strange taste in art, and he stares at three paintings on the wall beside the door in to his office.

Angels, he supposed. One of them was aiming a sword at what looked to be the Devil, another held a shield and had long flowing hair, standing like a guardian in front the gates of heaven. The last wielded a spear and wore armor, looked like he was headed in to battle. He always thought angels were supposed to be all halos, love and light.

His mind drifts to Lizzie. To the cave. Had he really seen her?

"The Archangels. Michael, Gabriel and Raphael.." James Hoult's voice breaks through Leon's thoughts and he blinks, looking up to his Boss.

"Hm?"

"The paintings," James gestures.

"Oh." Leon responds rather cautiously, "thought Angels were supposed to be all peace and love.." he chuckles.

"Far from it." James smiles.

"Well, I stand corrected." Leon jokes, beginning the process of getting himself up out of the chair. It took a little while, and Hoult watches him, asking if he needed help. The question makes him cringe.

"I got it." He grumbles. Finally back on his feet, he follows James in to his office. The door closing.

"Have a seat."

"Actually, mind if I just kinda.. lean?" He asks wearily.

James studies him for a moment and then nods. "Of course. I suppose it will be a while before that kind of injury is fully healed. Did they give you a time frame?"

"Anything up to a year." he shrugs, "so I guess another eight months, maybe. I dunno, I usually heal pretty quick."

James looks thoughtful. "Yes, so I recall."

Leon grinds his teeth for a moment, then speaks up. "So I'm sorry about the phone call.."

"I don't think we need to rehash the past. I understand those people were – are – friends of yours. And everybody is safe and alive." James' response takes Leon by surprise, all he can do is nod. "Although, that entire incident is why I've called you in."

Uh oh. Leon braces for his firing.

"As you're probably aware by now, the country has a new President."

The USA had been thrown in to turmoil after Adam Benford was killed, the Vice President taking over. Leon was not a huge fan of his – especially not after Lizzie. But it seemed while Leon was taking a good, long sleep, the country had finally elected it's new President. A man Leon knew of but had yet to meet in any official capacity. He gives James a small nod.

"In light of your heroic actions in Yakushima, the President is awarding you with a Medal of Valor." James says proudly.

Leon blinks. Then laughs. "What?"

"You rescued an entire BSAA team. Executed a flawless plan, liberated an island, took down the heart of an extensive black market Bio-Weapon trade-"

"I didn't do all that." he snorts, folding his arms.

"Well who did?"

"I..." he shrugs, "I thought the guy was still on the run?"

"He is, but his organization is dead in the water. And people are free, because of what you did. You sacrificed your own life for theirs. The President recognizes that sacrifice. You will receive the due honor."

Leon stares at him. In his entire career, he barely got a thankyou. Now they wanted to hand him a medal?

It felt surreal.

"I had help."

"Mr Kennedy, take the honor." James sighs.

Definitely surreal. He nods eventually. "Alright."

James laughs a little. "You are an unusual man, Mr Kennedy. But an asset to our cause. We'll let you know when the presentation will happen. In the meantime, enjoy your vacation, and heal up."

"I.. will.." Leon still felt bemused. But he shakes the man's hand as it's offered and is shown out of the office. As he arrives in the reception, he receives his second surprise of the day. In the form of Jake Muller striding toward him with his hand outstretched.

"They finally headhunted you, huh." Leon laughs, another handshake.

"Well, you know. I go where the money is." Jake smirks.

"What the hell are you doing here, then?" Leon jokes.

"Guess I'll see how it goes. Hey, I heard about what you did in Japan.."

"Oh god, I'm never going to live this down." He rolls his eyes.

"Hey, bask in it. Ride the ass kissing train hard as you can." Jake smirks.

Leon nods. "And all it took was getting cut in half to get some respect around here." He chuckles.

"That scar must be gnarly." Jake looks suitably impressed.

Leon shows him.

"Alright, you got me beat. Damn, dude." Jake makes a face.

"What do I win?"

"Drinks, on me. Tonight?"

"Name the place." Leon nods.

"You'll have to show me, I'm new in town."

"Right, well, drop me a message when you're done here." Leon gestures around, then gives him his number.

It's as he sends it over to the younger man, he notices a message on his phone. Scrolling to it, his breath catches in his throat.

Ada.

" _I'll see you soon."_


	20. Three of Hearts

**Authors Note:** Someones cutting onions..

* * *

 **I will be the answer**  
 **At the end of the line**  
 **I will be there for you**  
 **While you take the time**  
 **In the burning of uncertainty**  
 **I will be your solid ground**  
 **I will hold the balance**  
 **If you can't look down**

 **If it takes my whole life**  
 **I won't break, I won't bend**  
 **It will all be worth it**  
 **Worth it in the end**  
 **Cause I can only tell you what I know**  
 **That I need you in my life**  
 **When the stars have all gone out**  
 **You'll still be burning so bright**

 **\- Sarah McLachlan**

* * *

Drinks with Jake Muller happen at Mike's bar, right below Leon's apartment. It doubles as something of a welcome home party as Mike and the regulars had missed his presence over the past three months. Sherry also joins them, and Leon does his best to ignore the flirting that happens between she and Jake. Suddenly, he completely understands where Chris is coming from, it makes his teeth grind together and gives him the urge to take Jake aside and tell him that if he broke her heart he'd have to break his neck. He keeps it in check, though, and they get through the night with no neck breaking – and Sherry plays it cool. Good for her.

Getting back to his apartment the drunkest he's been since before Yakushima, is quite a struggle. The alcohol sadly didn't do much to alleviate the pain his healing wound still caused him. He hesitates outside his front door, taking a moment to breathe. He felt like some invalid, and it was an awful feeling for someone so used to having so much strength and physical ability. If he could just fast forward another few months, that would be great.

Finally he lets himself in and makes it to the fridge, getting a bottle of water and draining half of it, then shedding clothes as he makes his way to his bathroom and a shower. The clothes end up in various heaps on the floor, his leather jacket, hoodie, jeans all left in his wake. He starts the water and stands under it, then realizes he still has socks on. Drunkenly, he laughs. Nothing he could do about it, he couldn't even bend over. So he showers in his socks and then staggers his way through the rest of his going to bed routine. Brushing his teeth, peeing, leaving wet footprints all over.

Eventually he's dry, butt naked and in bed. He manages to peel the socks off and chuck them somewhere. They hit the dresser with a wet splat and fall to the carpeted floor.

"Fuck it.." he mumbles to himself, throwing an arm over his eyes, managing to get some sheets to cover his groin, then passing out around 1am.

It's a sunbeam that wakes him, drifting across his eyes from the blinds he'd forgotten to completely close. He groans, running a hand over his face. Then, he senses a presence beside him and his eyes snap open, sober in seconds as he jerks away a bit and looks to his side. For a split second he's worried he brought some chick home and didn't remember a bit of it.

"Good morning, handsome." Ada purrs.

She lay facing him, her cheek propped against her hand. Ruby red lips and perfect hair. She wore black pants and a red tank top. It was actually the most casual he'd ever seen her.

"What in the fuck?" he stares at her, rubbing his eyes again.

"I said I'd see you soon."

"I.." he narrows his eyes, "I didn't think you meant show up in my bed."

"Where we normally end up, I thought I'd cut out the middle man."

He groans, flopping his head back down. It was thumping. "How did you even get in?" he asks in to his palms as he covers his face.

"You ask me that every time, and the answers always the same." She sighs.

"Right, locks are your bitch, or something. I gotta get a place with better security."

"You object to women in your bed?"

"No.." he lets his hands slip from his face and fall to his sides, looking at her, "but it is pretty weird to watch a dude sleep don't you think?"

She smiles at him, a sultry pout. "Mmm, doesn't it make you wonder how many times I've done it and you never even knew?"

He wrinkles his nose, "that's just creepy."

She winks at him, lifting a hand and running her fingertips over his stomach. He flinches a little, which is annoying. He never liked her knowing how she effected him, but that whole area was super sensitive, considering the massive wound he nursed. It was closed now, staples out, but still angry looking and red and achy. It was currently covered by the sheet, but Ada? She was curious.

She carefully tucks the cover back and sits up a little, running her eyes over it.

"Now that's a scar." She says quietly.

He grumbles, then reaches a hand down, pulling hers away and covering it back up again. "Yeah. Dude that did it.. friend of yours?" He asks flatly.

"Well why don't you tell me who did it and I'll tell you."

He rolls his eyes. "Like you don't know. You know everything."

She hitches a shoulder.

"You're telling me you don't know who was manufacturing black market bio weapons on an entire island?" He snorts.

"I could find out." She tells him, meeting his eyes.

He sighs, "I don't buy it, Ada."

"Well I don't know what else to tell you."

"Then why are you even here? Why not just send me a text saying 'I dont know'."

"Last time I was here you were begging me to stay."

"I was not begging." he scowls.

"I heard about Elizabeth, I'm sorry."

He closes his eyes, looking away from her. "Yeah, that's a conversation I'm not up for."

"Alright." She says it gently.

Silence. She trails her hand over his stomach, upward this time, running over his chest. The first time a woman had touched him in over four months. He sighs. Lowering his arm from his brow and looking at her. Taking her in in the daylight. She was so beautiful, sometimes it was hard to look at her. His forever enigma. Uncatchable, untameable Ada. Who was she? And why had she sunk her claws so deep in to his heart? There was certainly nobody else on earth that could sneak in to his bed unannounced and not end up with a knife through their throat.

Well, except Claire. But she was nowhere to be seen. Apparently, she was done with him.

"I was worried about you," she says quietly, leaning a little closer to him.

He studies her. Suspicious. "You never worry about anyone but yourself." He says after a moment.

"That's not true." Ada actually sounded a little hurt by that, and there's a pang of guilt in him. But after what the man in black had said to him, he couldn't shake the sudden mistrust inside.

"What are you doing?" he asks as she strokes her hand over his stomach again.

She smiles at him, leaning close enough for him to smell her perfume, and that coconut she used on her silky soft hair. She lightly kisses his chest, leaving a small red lipstick mark, then looks up in to his eyes. "Helping you feel better." She whispers. Then leans up and brushes her lips against his.

He says nothing as her hand trails carefully south, past the scar. He just looks in to her eyes, searching.

She kisses him again, and he gently returns it. Her fingers softly close around him and his eyes re-open, breaking the kiss. He lowers his hand and takes her off of him.

"Seriously?" he asks with a lift of his eyebrow.

"What?" she purrs with a smile.

"If you don't have any answers for me then get the fuck out."

It's possibly the harshest he's ever been with her, and her face falls. She draws her hand back and stares at him.

"You think I wanna fuck you right now?" He asks, irritated, "you think I even can? I'm in pain, Ada. It hurts to fucking sit up, it hurts to just lie here! you think I can do all that?"

"I was just.."

"I don't care what you were doing. You can't just show up like this, I'm fucking tired of it."

"You asked me to come."

"No I asked you to tell me what the hell that guy that tried to fucking kill me meant when he mentioned you by name. He said you WARNED him about me." He forces himself to sit up, and it hurt. He grits his teeth and groans a little, grabbing sweatpants from the floor and struggling them on as he talks. "6ft tall, ice blue eyes, well spoken. Built like me – or the me before I spent three months wasting away in a coma. In charge of an entire island, manufacturing BOW's, running experiments, selling black market shit. And you 'dont know' who it is?" He laughs, snapping the waistband down just under his scar. "Look at this shit, Ada.."

He points at the mean looking healing wound. "This happened because he said your name, he said you warned him I never gave up. And it threw me. And he left me to bleed to death in a fucking cave."

Ada pushes herself up to sit up, a look in her eyes he couldn't quite read. "I'm sorry but I don't know who it is. I meet and deal with a lot of people."

"Doing what?" He demands, "what do you do? Who ARE you?"

"None of that will heal you, Leon." She sighs, getting to her feet and looking across the bed at him.

"No but I need to know if I'm in love with someone that secretly wants me dead. Who's playing me.."

She holds a hand up, batting her eyes. "In love with?" She asks incredulously.

"Well what else would you call it?" He asks angrily.

"Sex. Lust. Trust." She suggests.

He laughs. "I don't trust you."

"Just because some idiot in a mask says my name?" She retorts, "do you have any idea how many people out there know of me? And hate me? He's probably some pissed off dealer I crossed and he got intel on us. It worked. He threw you off your game." She gestures.

Leon narrows his eyes at her, gritting his teeth.

"What would I have to gain from you dying?" She asks him.

"One less roadblock getting in to your shady deals?" He fires back.

She folds her arms. "if you were a roadblock do you think I would have helped you all those times? Do you think I wouldn't just have taken you out myself?"

"That's comforting." he snorts.

"I don't know what you want from me here, I don't know who it was."

"And I don't believe you."

She throws her hands in the air and looks away, staring across his bedroom and biting her tongue between her teeth. Eventually she nods, looking back to him. "If I can find out, will that make you feel better?"

"Just tell me." He levels his gaze on her.

"I – Don't – know."

"You are the worst liar. Get the fuck out." He grabs his bedroom door and opens it.

She stares at him.

"Or shall I open the window and you can throw yourself out of that instead?" He asks, "I know you prefer dramatic exits."

She laughs under her breath and moves around the bed, breezing past him. "And you wonder why you're alone."

He pulls a face behind her back. "Cause I wasted so much time chasing you." he snaps, slamming the door behind her. He bows his head and listens for the clunk of the front door. It comes, and he runs his hands through his hair then drops them to his face, growling in to his palms. He didn't believe her, he just didn't. She was covering for the man that tried to kill him – that stole three months of his life. That had left him a weak, broken shell of the person he was.

That wasn't love.

Or was he just paranoid now? Mistrusting the world because he was hurt and frustrated and not feeling like himself? It was hard to know. He drops his hands to his hips, staring at the floor. His head was thumping, his hangover demanding to be acknowledged. Pissed off, he heads in to his bathroom. Taking an angry hot shower and struggling his way through getting himself up for the day. He digs out his painkillers once he's in the kitchen and he adds a good splash of whiskey to his morning coffee. Downing it all with some toast.

And when he's done with the coffee, he drinks straight whiskey on his couch in front of trashy daytime TV.

He's drunk by midday.

* * *

He spends the next two weeks drinking, sinking in to a mire of feeling sorry for himself. A part of him even wished he'd never woken up, as dramatic as that sounded it would have been better than the life he was assigned to now. Unable to exercise, unable to move without pain, unable to work or even fuck. And it wasn't for lack of offers, he visited the bar below his apartment and as usual, had women trying to slide in to his lap. But there was just no way. No earthly, possible way he could go there right now, it would be way too much strain on muscles that had barely knitted back together yet. Even jerking off was uncomfortable.

Everything that had made Leon Kennedy, Leon Kennedy, felt like it had been taken from him.

So yeah, he was sulking.

He hadn't heard another word from Ada and a big chunk of him was glad of it. Fuck her and her running him around, never giving him straight answers, leading him on only to slam doors in his face. He'd never known where he stood for her, he'd spent twenty years of his life in love with a ghost that never returned it. Sure, she'd saved his life more than once, but what did that mean? Just that she didn't want to see another human being die. It meant nothing more than that. Not a thing.

And Claire. She never once checked in. Maybe this was payback, maybe this was her final revenge for him calling her Ada all those years ago. Lure him in to love and then kick him to the curb when he needed her the most.

"I'm worried about you." Sherry sighs, picking up a magazine he'd dropped on to the floor beside his couch and putting it on the coffee table. He lay on the couch, feet up, gazing at the TV with a glass of whiskey in his hand. It was 2pm.

"Don't be." he mumbles his response.

"Hard not to be, every time I come around you're drunk or drinking."

"Guess you better stage another intervention then." He brushes her off, lifting the glass to his lips. Sherry folds her arms, a little hurt by that.

"That's not fair. You know that wasn't my idea."

"You showed up."

"Because I wanted to help you."

"You did a fantastic job." He chuckles into the glass.

She stares at him, his words a slap in the face. Tears prickle her eyes and she shakes her head. "Well if that's how you feel.. I'll stop."

Sherry turns away from him and moves quickly over to the kitchen table, grabbing her purse and her coat. Leon groans, running his hand over his face.

"Sherry.."

"I don't want to get in the way of your very important drinking." She snaps.

"I'm sorry.. okay?" He sighs, forcing himself to sit up. She looks back at him with hurt eyes. "I appreciate everything you've done – are still doing. You know that. I'm just..." He puts his glass down, shrugging his shoulders.

"Feeling sorry for yourself?"

He looks back up to her, dragging a hand through his still very dark hair. He'd gotten used to it now, maybe he'd keep it. It suited his mood. "Yeah, maybe I am. What the fuck else am I gonna do?"

"Get up? Go outside?" She gestures to the bright, sunny June day outside the window, "its beautiful out there."

"And what, go for a hike? It hurts to move."

"The Leon I know wouldn't let a bit of pain stop him." Sherry challenges. He grits his teeth, looking away from her.

"Yeah, well, this isn't a bit – its a lot." he grumbles.

"Then you need to go back to the doctor." She says more gently, putting her coat down. He idly drags his thumb along his lower lip, thoughtful.

"Maybe."

Sherry sighs, moving over to sit down next to him. "I know it's hard. I know you're used to being superman – we all miss that Leon. But you can't give up now."

He looks at her.

"This isn't forever." She reminds.

"Isn't it?"

"No. They said it could be anything up to a year, right? Well it's been five months. You need to give yourself time."

"It's filling that time that's the problem. Almost wish they could knock me back out again." He admits, slowly rubbing his hands together.

"And it's okay to feel impatient. But it'll happen." She smiles at him, "a year from now this will all be a bad memory. You'll be back on your feet, back doing what you do. Don't let this drag you down in to a black hole."

He gives her a little smile, nodding. "Maybe I need to take up video games."

She laughs, "yeah well, no zombie ones okay?"

He smirks.

"Maybe you should see a real physiotherapist. Do something pro active." She suggests.

He looks thoughtful. He'd never really considered that, physiotherapy always seemed like something you'd do if you'd had a broken leg or arm. But he supposed it was for more than that. It was worth looking in to at least. He lifts his hand, ruffling her hair. She giggles and pulls away from him, shoving him gently with her hand.

"Do it while I'm away." She smiles at him.

"Away?"

"Yep, first assignment since before your injury. They're sending me and Jake to Europe."

He narrows his eyes, "you and Jake, huh."

She purses her lips at him. "It's not like that. It's business."

"What they got you chasing?"

"Actually, it's to investigate a lead on the man who did this to you."

His eyebrows lift, interested.

"Seems like 'The Order' is attempting to re-establish itself, this time in Spain."

"Ugh, home of Los Illuminados." He grumbles. "Be careful out there, if that lot are getting involved.."

"There's nothing to suggest the re-emergence of that cult. But we'll be careful." She smiles at him.

"When do you leave?"

"Two days. So I'll be by tomorrow, bring everything you'll need to survive a week."

He chuckles. "You don't have to do that. I can take care of myself."

"Could have fooled me," she nudges him with her elbow and he narrows his eyes at her.

"Yeah yeah," he wraps her in a headlock and completely ruins her hair, but it has her shrieking with laughter. He's laughing too when he finally releases her, and she calls him every name under the sun, running off to fix her hair.

When she returns, he continues his 'big brother' duty. "So.. you and Jake.."

She picks up her empty tea mug and eyes him. "What about me and Jake?"

"Do I have to give him a talking to?"

"No." She looks at him, "don't you dare, Leon."

"Well he just needs to know, he fucks you around.. I break his hands."

She laughs, blushing scarlet. "That's very noble, but no hand breaking will be necessary. There's no hands going anywhere."

"No?" he asks over the rim of his glass, taking a swig.

"I don't think he's interested in me like that." She shrugs.

Leon laughs in to the glass.

"What?" Sherry purses her lips.

"If you say so, kid."

"Did he say something?"

"No. He didn't need to. I know guys.. I am one."

More blushing.

"So just let him know, he gets handsy, he'll get his ass kicked."

"I.. will do that." She clears her throat, washing her mug out.

Leon pours himself another drink as Sherry says her goodbyes, telling him she'd see him tomorrow. Once she's gone, he sits – nursing his whiskey, lost in thought.

He takes a swig and puts the glass down, picking up his phone. Searching for the best physiotherapist he could find.

* * *

He ached all over, standing under a hot shower in the hopes that muscles that hadn't been used in ages would soothe a little. He'd started physiotherapy two weeks ago, and what had begun as super gentle exercise intended to help strengthen his core muscles and return some power to his body, had swiftly gotten more and more intense. Today, they'd made him do leg weights, which might not sound like a huge deal but when you hadn't done anything in almost six months and suddenly you're using your thighs and your stomach to lift weights at your ankles – you feel it.

He was sore. Aching. Wondering if his stomach was ever going to feel the same again. But he had a small smile on his face. Getting his body working again was a big step in the right direction. This had without a doubt become the hardest challenge he had ever faced. Beyond the undead, beyond Spain, beyond monsters and villains. His own body had become his greatest adversary, and he was determined to conquer it. He had to.

He washes his hair and gets out, wrapping a towel around his waist and going over to the sink, about to shave when he notices a notification on his phone. Picking it up, he inspects it with a frown. Two missed calls.

From Claire.

He swallows down a sudden dryness in his throat, turning away from the bathroom mirror and padding out in to his bedroom where he picks up his half drunk whiskey glass and sits down on the edge of his bed, staring at his phone. He brings her number up, takes a sip, and presses 'Dial'.

The wait for her to pick up feels like forever, he's about to give up and hang up when she finally answers. For a second, he doesn't know what to say.

"You.. hi. I missed your calls?" He says awkwardly after her 'hey'.

"How are you?" she asks quietly.

"I'm.." he searches for words, why did he suddenly not know how to talk to her? "I'm alright, I guess, for a guy that nearly got cut in half."

Silence.

"How are you?" He nudges.

He hears her take a deep breath. "I'm okay, just getting ready to get on a flight."

"Where are you?"

"Washington."

"Oh.." she was in the city and she hadn't even told him, or come to see him?

"Yeah, work. There's a problem with a reality TV show on the island of Sonido de Tortuga. Some strange outbreak, we're going over to help... it's a long story." She laughs a little.

"Always something somewhere.." he murmurs.

"Yeah."

"When did you get back from Lanshiang?"

"Two weeks ago."

He draws in a breath, nodding. The silence hung there, heavy in the air. He lifts his hand and rubs his brow. "Claire, did I do something wrong?"

"Leon.."

"Because before Yakushima I thought things were going really well." He continues, hearing her sigh on the other end of the line. "What did I do?"

"You didn't do anything."

"Oh." He frowns deeply. "Because, you seem to be avoiding the shit out of me for no reason then."

"I've just been busy."

He lets out a slight laugh. "Yeah. All our friends have been busy too, they still found time to come see me. To call."

Silence.

"Why did you call now?" He asks.

"I don't know." She says with a tiny laugh of her own. "I missed your voice I guess. I just.. wanted to check in. Before I go. And you're okay. So.. good."

"That's it?"

"What else do you want?"

He bows his head. "Is it cause of Ada?"

More silence.

"Cause of what Chris said? What I said? I can't help that I care about her, Claire. At least I'm honest. But it's not her I w..."

"Don't. Okay? Just.." She sounded tearful. "I have to go. I'm glad you're alright."

"Claire!"

"Goodbye, Leon."

"Wait!"

The line goes dead, and he's even more confused than he was before. Staring at his phone, he shakes his head. It wasn't ending like this.

He drops his phone on his bed and gets to his feet, shedding his towel and grabbing jeans. He ignores the pain in his middle and dresses faster than he had in months. Pulling on a hoodie and leaving his hair wet, he slips on sneakers and grabs his keys. Heading out, hurrying to the elevator and down to the parking lot. He gets on his Ducati. Probably the worst thing to be doing with the injury he had, but he didn't care. It would get him to Washington D.C airport faster than anything else. And he rides it like a psychopath, weaving in and out of traffic expertly and barely obeying road rules – just enough to keep from getting arrested.

He arrives at the airport and ditches it, to hell with a ticket. Jogging through, his midsection screaming at him, he finds an information desk and asks where the TerraSave plane was leaving from. Flashing his DSO ID, which was really against the rules for anything that wasn't business. He didn't care. It was not ending like this.

He's pointed in the right direction and he makes his way as fast as he can, flashing that ID at security, ending up out on the tarmac. The last time he'd been out here, Elizabeth had died. He swallows down that memory and spots the TerraSave cargo plane. Jogging toward it, he spots her red hair, she was heading up the steps.

"Claire!" He bellows, making her stop in her tracks. She stares at him from up there.

"Leon?" She looks at him in disbelief, shielding her eyes from the sun. She turns and begins to descend the steps again. "What are you doing here?!"

He draws up in front of her. "You were just going to leave it like that?" He asks.

"I didn't know what else to say."

"How about you tell me what happened!" he says it desperately. "Everything was fine in Lanshiang and then.. you won't even talk to me."

She looks away from him, biting her top lip.

"What did I do? Is it really the Ada thing? Because to hell with her.. I don't want her. I even told her to get out of my life a month ago. It's you.. it's always been you." He takes her shoulders gently, bringing her eyes back to him.

"You don't want me." She laughs softly.

"No? Funny cause I just broke about fifty road laws getting here to tell you otherwise."

She stares at him. "I can't do this."

"You owe me this much, Claire." He demands.

"Why? I don't owe you anything."

"I spent three fucking months in a coma and you don't even check in to see if I'm okay until now.. the one person I wanted to hear from. The one person I needed.."

"Leon.."

"What did I do?! Give me that, at least."

She pulls away from him, backing up a few steps. "You died!" She snaps back at him suddenly, then angrily wipes away tears as they fall.

He stares at her.

"You chose dying, over me!" She elaborates. "You left me, you made this decision. You left me alone to be a hero and you died."

"I'm still here."

She shakes her head. "You don't get it!"

"No obviously not."

"In the hospital that day, they told me you were dead. That you'd died. Your heart stopped FIVE TIMES!" she shouts at him. "That's five times I thought you were gone. Five times my heart smashed to pieces. Five times you chose running back to your death over staying with me."

"To save you. I did it to save you. All of you."

"What if I'd rather be dead than in a world without you in it?" She asks him angrily.

He feels like the words slapped him in the face. They steal the air from him and he can't speak.

"But I'm still here.." he says quietly, eventually.

"Until the next time." she says it in a voice thick with sadness. "Until the next time the world needs a hero. Or I need one. Or someone else needs one. It's who you are, Leon." She sniffs, "its who you are and I love you for it. But I can't."

"Then I'll stop."

She shakes her head. "I can't ask you to do that."

"I'm offering."

"And you'll hate me for it. Because I know even now its killing you you can't be who you are. Sherry tells me everything."

He grits his teeth. "Sherry's been talking to you?"

"Don't be mad at her. I asked her to not say anything. She's trying so hard.."

Leon bows his head, fighting that burning feeling behind his eyes and in his throat. "So that's it?"

Claire draws a deep breath. "We made it this far as friends."

He nods absently, he couldn't look at her.

"We made up for the past. And I think.. that's where it's best left. Because I can't do this. I can't love you, every time I do it's too hard. I can't. I'm sorry."

"But you do love me." he says quietly.

"Do you love me?" She asks.

"I do." He admits.

"Then don't make me say goodbye, and don't make me stay." She says quietly. "Let me go."

He bites his tongue hard between his teeth, not looking at her. Just nodding.

"I really am glad you're alright." She moves closer to him, lifting her hands to his face and bringing his watery eyes to hers. She gives him a sad smile. "You're the bravest, craziest man I know. And the world needs you."

"What if I need you?" He whispers, his voice dry.

"Then I'll be a phone call away."

He looks into her eyes, finding determination and pain in them. He gives the smallest nod.

"I'll always be your friend." She adds in a whisper.

He says nothing. He couldn't. He just watches her as she lowers her hands from his face and turns away. Boarding the plane without ever looking back.

His heart, broken.


	21. In Pieces

**Authors Note:** It's all about the little moments, that pave the way to the big ones. An odd chapter, of those pieces.. the end is nigh.

* * *

 **So here we are**  
 **This is the end**  
 **But all that dies**  
 **Is born again**  
 **The scars will still remain**  
 **From the ashes, I will rise again**

 **\- In This Moment**

* * *

 **3 Months Later – October 2014**

 **9 Months since Yakushima**

Leon stands perfectly still, his eyes lightly closed, hands relaxed at his sides. He breathes slowly, deeply, letting every sense other than sight guide him. He knew where each of them stood, where each had positioned themselves before the blindfold was removed. He felt them, it was the simplest things that gave them away. The tiniest creak of a sneaker, the ruffle of a piece of clothing, the tightening of a grip around a gun or a blade. They surrounded him, they should have the drop on this wounded soldier with ease.

It begins. One charges at him from directly in front and his eyes snap open. He sidesteps and drives his elbow in to the back of his attackers head. He drops, sweeps his leg and takes out the feet of another. He rolls and fires two shots, another one bites the dust. He hits an elbow, a backhand, a shot to the chest. He ducks and backsteps and rolls under the strikes of two more. Dodges a gunshot and returns fire. Three shots, reload, he drops to his knee and fires. He takes out another pair of legs with a sweep of his own, drops to his stomach and lets off two rounds. Swinging to his feet in a fluid dance he hooks the arm of his next attacker and wrenches it backwards, hyper extending his elbow, he fires in to the side of the assailants head. He shoves the body in to his next adversary, knocking him down. He kicks backward, spins on his heel and drives his other heel in to the neck of the next. Two shots, drop the clip, he spins the gun in his hand and slams in the next round. Four shots.

Done.

He pants, holding his final position, each breath making his blackened hair flick up from in front of his eyes.

"Good." His trainer calls time on the exercise and his felled opponents groan, picking themselves up slowly from the floor. The rounds might have been blank, but the hits had been hard. Leon relaxes his stance and lowers his gun, unclenching his jaw. He'd been training six hours a day for the past two weeks in this new technique, a modified Gun-Kata, fondly restyled and renamed 'Gun-Fu' since it's inception. A kind of super close quarters gun fighting technique, centered around super fast reloads and body shots designed to keep attackers at bay until you found the right killing blow. It was both a defense and assault in quick succession. Leon had discovered it on the internet, and he'd thrown himself in to it with everything he had.

It had been three months since Claire walked out of his life. He hadn't heard from her since – but that was okay. He'd spent enough time drinking and mourning the death of what would never be. He had a new philosophy. Relationships didn't work in their world, they weren't safe, they got you killed or worse. It wasn't what he was here for, Claire had said it herself. The world needed him. Needed him to be back on his game, needed him to fight the battles nobody else could. A killer. Sword of justice. The Presidents right hand – that was all he was.

He wasn't back on active duty yet, he was waiting to be cleared. But after Claire left, he'd thrown himself in to physiotherapy. Strengthening muscles, rebuilding his body from the ground up. It had become his entire focus. No women to distract him, no jobs to take him away from it. He woke up, he trained, he did physio, he ate right – he still drank his weight in vodka or whiskey each night. He had toned his body in almost three months to a physique he'd never had before. He'd always been tall and well built, but now any scrap of extra weight he'd had on him was gone, he was lean muscle in a slender frame, defined, chiselled. It wasn't who he used to be a year ago, it was an entirely different animal.

A faster one. Maybe even more dangerous.

He still felt pain in his middle. It still struck him sharply now and again and the dull ache never really went away. But he'd taken up a kind of meditation and he could see his way through it, work with it, even turn it in to a driving force. His instructor taught him a hundred techniques for protecting his midsection, if you could land any kind of blow toward his middle, you were probably a master. It would likely always be his Achilles heel now, so his trainer based his entire technique around defending and protecting it.

Amidst the physical training, he'd also been working on brushing up the firearms. Honing faster reload times with assault rifles, he hit a new personal best with sniper range. When Leon Kennedy was focused on nothing but technique, he became utterly deadly. He was almost ready.

This week he received his Medal of Valor from the President. He would return to the White House. He hadn't been there since slightly before Tall Oaks. He would pick up that medal, and he would take it to Portland, Oregon. Where he would hand it to Elizabeth's Mother – to do with as she wished. That was his plan. She could keep it, she could sell it, she could burn it. She deserved it more than he did as far as he was concerned.

He'd paid for Elizabeth's funeral and memorial, he'd wanted to at least alleviate a little of the burden. A burden he felt he had created.

Leon was not the man he used to be. Something in him had changed, died in Yakushima. He knew that now, and trying to return to the man he was was an impossibility.

He holsters his gun as his instructor speaks with him, a quiet conversation going over technique. Then, they return to positions and run through again, this time adding four more assailants. He finishes on one knee with two guns drawn and everybody down, an even faster time than before. His midsection throbbed, and when he stands he feels a little like he might throw up. They take five, so he can get water and get his nausea under control. But he wasn't done, not for today, not by a long shot.

He leaves the small, hot, dingy dojo two hours later. A black holdall over his shoulder and back in dark navy jeans and his two stripe leather jacket. His Ducati parked out the front, he swings a leg over it and starts it up. He'd taken to riding this bike most places, ever since that day he weaved through traffic to try and keep Claire from leaving his life. So much for 'Ill always be your friend'. This bike could outrun anything, even his own thoughts.

Leon heads home and dumps his training gear in the wash like an adult. Making himself dinner – like an adult. He eats grilled chicken – a ton of protein, and a full glass of whiskey. He's sitting on the couch finishing it when he hears the key turn in the lock for his apartment. Sherry breezing in a moment later, she had a garment bag slung over her shoulder and a file tucked under her arm – as well as a big smile on her face. She was his 'date' for receiving the medal. Though obviously not a date, date. Because, ew.

"You're back!" She sounded a little surprised, coming in and hanging the garment bag over the back of a kitchen table chair.

"Yeah, no late physio today." He nods, putting his empty plate down.

"But you were training?"

"Yep."

"How's it going?"

"Good, throwing a few new tricks in the bag.. or up my sleeve.. or whatever the saying is." He chuckles, picking up his whiskey glass. He studies her. She had an extra big smile on her face today. "Good day?"

She looks shocked he asked, and nods, smiling at him. "Yes, thankyou."

"Any particular reason?" He nudges.

She blushes, changing the subject. "I picked up your suit for tomorrow. And there's a bit of an itinerary."

He pulls a face. "Itinerary? What can there be to it other than show up, get medal, leave?"

She sighs. "It's the President, of course there's an itinerary."

Leon grumbles into his glass. "Benford just used to text me."

"Well, give him a chance. You two haven't really met properly yet."

She was right, of course she was. Just like the man he was before Yakushima, he needed to start leaving other things in the past too. Including Benford, and the standards he'd set. Whoever this new President was as a person, he'd have a whole new set of ideals and rules and morals. Hopefully, they'd be ones that aligned with Leon's own. He supposed he'd have to see, he'd be directly serving the man after all.

"Well, you have to be up early." Sherry fusses, "I'll be here by 10, they're picking us up at 11."

He grimaces. "Don't see why I can't just roll up in jeans and my jacket."

Sherry gives him a look. "Shower. Put on the suit. I will see you at 10."

"Yes Mom." he salutes, swigging his drink then giving her a look, "you heading out already?"

"Yeah," she grabs her purse, leaving his stuff on the kitchen table. "Um.. got a ride waiting for me."

Leon's eyebrows jump. "Jake?"

Sherry turns the color of a tomato. "It's not what you think."

"I didn't say a word!" he smirks.

"Nothings happening!"

"I didn't suggest it was!" He laughs.

"10am.." she points at him, heading to the door.

"Use a condom!" He retorts.

"LEON!" She gasps and practically throws herself out of the door, swinging it shut behind her.

He sits laughing to himself, draining his glass and pouring another. His laughter fades as his abdomen twinges, turning his amusement in to a grimace. He sits back, letting the pang of pain pass before snatching up his painkillers and washing them down with another mouthful of alcohol.

* * *

Leon whacks his hand over his 7am alarm and lies there for a while, groaning. Today was going to be weird, and more attention and fuss than he liked. The idea of handing out awards for putting your life on the line – for almost dying – seemed utterly bizarre to him. But, when you were called by the President, for whatever reason, you attended. So he hauls himself out of bed, pops a couple of painkillers with a mouthful of water, and shuffles in to the shower.

He shaves and gets his hair looking presentable, then seriously considers just putting on jeans and his jacket. Benford wouldn't have minded, he'd turned up at the White House every time dressed that way. But Sherry would throw a fit and today didn't need to be any more uncomfortable, so he puts on the damn suit. She'd chosen well, at least. Black with a navy shirt – still his color, even with darker hair. Apparently the dramatic darkening could have been down to the multiple blood transfusions they gave him, a thing that could actually happen. Strange, it made him feel weird to know there was other peoples blood in him now, but it didn't seem to have slowed him down any. If anything, he seemed to move even faster than he used to.

He buttons up the shirt and debates the tie. He couldn't do it, ties were not him. So he leaves the top button undone and chucks the tie on his bed.

Coffee. Breakfast.

Sherry arrives on the dot of 10am in a white pant suit, thrilled to find him dressed, she predictably fusses at him for not putting on the tie. They leave his apartment arguing about it. He still refuses to put it on.

They're driven to The White House in a limousine, he was used to them, but forever felt out of place in them. Having people open doors and things for you was just foreign to him. Returning ties a knot in his stomach – the last time he'd been here he'd been speaking with Benford about lifting the veil on what happened at Raccoon City. About the Governments part in it. Adam had wanted to tell America the truth and let the chips fall where they may. He was a good, honest man and he'd been ready to face the music. Instead, Simmons had taken him out before the truth could be revealed. It still made Leon angry.

The first stop is the Oval Office, to officially meet his new commander. They shake hands and talk, the new President telling Leon he'd heard a lot about him, that he was spoken of highly by everybody. "Just doing my job, sir." Had been his ever humble reply. He's asked about his injury and if he was ready to get back to duty. He certainly was, he was just awaiting that clearance. He had another physical and psych test in a weeks time – they'd assess him then.

The ceremony is as embarrassing as he thought it would be. But he was surprised to see familiar faces attending. Including Chris Redfield and Jill Valentine, the team he'd extracted that day in Yakushima, all on hand. He couldn't help but think Claire should have been there, but she was nowhere to be seen.

Amidst camera flashes, the President details Leon's career. From his humble start as a rookie cop on his first day on the job – the horrors of Raccoon City. To the prodigy he'd become as a part of USSTRATCOM. By the age of 22, a single year in to his training after Raccoon City, he'd had a reputation as the best sniper outside of the US Marines and was already fronting missions in the fight against Bio Terror. Leon stands quietly to the President's right as he talks about Spain, rescuing President Graham's daughter, Ashley. Dismantling the core of Los Illuminados single handedly. A battle that had spanned four days and he'd somehow emerged from it alive. He talks about his time leading SRT teams to numerous outbreak events around America and indeed the world. To the formation of the Division of Security Operations. Tall Oaks. Lanshiang.

Finally, the President stands at his side as the events in Yakushima are detailed by a new White House speaker. It felt so strange, to hear someone else talk about the things you'd done. To tell the story of how you bravely ran in to an impossible battle with no weapons left other than a sword, and almost gave your life in order to save others. This had been the most surreal year of Leon's life, without question.

The president drapes the blue ribbon and gold medal around his neck. Shaking hands. There's applause. He catches Chris Redfields eye and a small smile is shared between them. A nod, that said 'You did good, brother'. In the end, the respect of the other men and women that fought this fight alongside him was all he really needed or wanted. They were the ones that mattered. They all deserved this fucking medal.

"Leon!"

Leon stops in his tracks as they're leaving the ceremony, he and Sherry looking back to see Chris Redfield and Jill Valentine walking toward them.

"Hey, didn't know you guys were coming." He smiles at them, shaking hands as they arrive.

"Are you kidding? Why do you think you got that medal?" Chris asks with a good natured smirk.

"Feel like this is the part where I break it in to pieces and share it around." He laughs a little.

"Still think they should have made a whole new one for you. The 'Crazy Motherfucker of the Year' award or something." Chris continues his gentle taunting and Leon rolls his eyes.

"We've got something for you." Jill breaks it up with a laugh.

"Oh?" Leon puzzles.

He isn't quite sure where she produces it from, but she lifts up the Katana he'd used back in Yakushima. Polished and beautiful in it's sheath, she offers it out to him on her palms. "Captain Reynolds picked it up. We weren't sure if you'd want to even see it again, but, without it the fight would have been lost."  
Leon's mouth suddenly felt dry, and he gazes at it. She was right, without it they really would have been entirely screwed. He'd fought off the creatures, kept them at bay so the others could get to safety. They were out of ammo, out of options. This sword was all he'd had.

He gingerly reaches out a hand and lifts it from her palms. For a such a deadly weapon, it was light and easy to handle. The hilt polished, the dragon glittered in the sunshine, there on the lawn of the White House. "Thankyou." He says quietly.

"Thank _you_." Jill returns, catching his eyes, a little nod between them.

"If we can ever return the favor." Chris speaks up, more sincerely than Leon had ever heard him.

Leon lets out a small laugh, nodding. "I know who to call."

Chris reaches out his hand and Leon takes it. The oh so manly hand shake becomes a brotherly hug. Despite the differences and confrontations between them, there was a bond you shared with people that fought the same fight as you. He was forever tied to them, the respect would never change. He shares a handshake and hug with Jill also, pulling back, he gestures to Sherry. "We were gonna go eat steak and drink a few beers. You in?" He suggests to the two soldiers.

"If you're buying." Jill nods.

"I'm buying." He agrees with a smile.

* * *

Leon sits shirtless and panting on a bench in the DSO offices medical facility. He'd just got done running on a treadmill for what felt like four hours, a mask over his face measuring his breathing as well as other sticky wires attached to him monitoring heart rate and whatever other data they needed from his body. Aside from the wound site, his body was in a condition it hadn't been in perhaps ever. His intense daily training had turned him in to a beast – what he lacked in bulk, he gained in speed and precision. He was lithe, all muscle, he'd give Brad Pitt in Troy a run for his money. His strength had returned, he was back to 200 pull ups a day. Back running. Back doing all the things he used to do. His only problem area remained his midsection, now and again it would cramp or nerve pain would shoot through him. But he could work through it – he was determined to work through it.

A week ago they'd given him a psychological evaluation, today – the physical. He'd worked so hard to get to this point, he was ahead of the healing schedule, as he sits and gets his breath and sweats, he hopes. He was ready to get back out there. He felt ready. Ready to kick the shit out of something.

"Alright, Mr Kennedy. You can hit the shower." The Doctor arrives in the room holding a chart and gives him a smile. Leon looks up at him, his hair plastered to his face.

"Is it all good?"

"We'll have full results in a day or so." The Doctor nods.

"But am I gonna get cleared?" he presses, hopping off of the bench.

"Everything needs to be reviewed. They'll let you know."

He sighs heavily, tired of the waiting. But what other choices did he have. He thanks the Doctor and grabs his shirt, heading out and to the gym showers.

As he leaves the locker rooms and moves past the gym area itself, he hears something that makes him pause. Stopping in his tracks and frowning a little as he tries to make out what the sound is. A quiet sob, like someone trying to hide the fact that they were crying. He chews the inside of his cheek, pondering getting involved or not. Then sighs, peeking his head around the door. Who he finds is a little surprising.

Helena sat with her head in her hands, in what she thought was an empty training room. He considers just keeping going, but he never had been very good at leaving people in distress behind. He might regret this, but at least she wouldn't be on his conscience.

"You alright?" he asks quietly, making her jump a little. She hides her face away from him, looking in the opposite direction.

"Fine." She answers, her voice shaky.

"You don't sound it." He walks carefully in to the room.

She lets out a small laugh, dropping her hands from her face and looking at him. Her cheeks were streaked with tears. "I would have thought you'd be celebrating. Helena getting whats coming to her."

He frowns, moving a little closer. "Because I've always been about wishing suffering on others." He responds sarcastically.

She draws a deep breath, "yeah, well. I screwed up things between us so.. I don't expect you to care."

He hitches a shoulder, leaning against the wall beside her and then sliding down it to sit at her side, drawing his knees up in the same way she had. "You didn't screw things up between us, because there was no us. That's what I kept trying to tell you."

She bows her head. "Well maybe I wanted there to be."

"Or maybe you were just clinging to me." He says quietly. "Because of China. Your sister. It happens when you go through something together."

She turns a little smile to him. "I didn't know how to handle it. I've never had to deal with anything like that before."

"We all deal with things different ways." He shrugs a little. "Not always the best ways."

She narrows her eyes, gazing at him. "You got me through that. China."

"You got yourself through it." He shakes his head.

"I couldn't have without you." She insists, and he says nothing. "Once we got home I guess I just kept turning to you. Holding on to that."

"It's alright, Helena." He murmurs. "I coulda handled things differently too. Truth is I tend to turn to sex and alcohol to cope and you were offering it.. I could have said no. I didn't."

"So maybe we're both assholes." She quips.

He chuckles softly. "Maybe."

Her face falls. "I said some things about you I shouldn't have though, and I'm sorry."

His eyebrows jump, he gives a little shake of his head. "It's in the past."

"Thankyou." She smiles.

Leon pats her knee and looks at her. "So what are you crying about?"

"Oh.." she laughs sadly, "well. Looks like I won't be around much longer anyway."

"What do you mean?"

She takes a deep breath. "I'm pregnant."

He freezes, then does very swift math in his head.

"It's not yours, dummy, I'd be like 12 months along or something." She laughs, he laughs with her. "Nope. Guy I've been seeing. I don't know if it'll work out.. he'll probably flip out when I tell him." She sighs.

He gives her a small, sympathetic look. "There's always options."

She shakes her head. "I can't get rid of it. It's not in me. Why I was crying I guess. Whatever he decides.. to be a part of this or not.. it's.. kinda terrifying."

"That's a big life change, for sure." He says thoughtfully. "But you'll handle it."

"I have to tell work."

"It'll be alright, they've just had me out for nine months.. possibly longer.. you won't lose your job."

"No?" She asks with a small, worried frown.

He nudges her with his elbow. "Talk to em. Tell the Father. Get it all out there, then you can start moving forward. Be fearless, like you were in Tatchi."

She draws a deep breath and leans her head against the wall, staring at nothing. "I think if it's a girl I want to call it Deborah, after my sister."

Leon nods. "That sounds perfect."

She smiles at him. "Thankyou, Leon."

"You're welcome," he gives her a friendly, comforting wink in return, then carefully pushes himself to his feet. His midsection ached from the intense physical, and a nerve twinged as he rose. He holds his hand out to her and helps her up to her feet nevertheless.

"You gonna be okay?" he asks her once she's up.

"I will. I should go shower." She smiles, drying her face with her hands.

He wishes her luck with everything and watches her go, a small smile on his face. It felt good to smooth over some old, damaged ground. And he could understanding going to pieces after something like what they went through in Lanshiang. His coping skills weren't all that wonderful either, after all.

As he leaves the Benford Memorial Building, he spots them adding a new plaque to the wall just outside. A frown fleeting over his face.

Blue Umbrella were moving in?

He glowers at the logo. He didn't care what color scheme they used, he wouldn't trust anything Umbrella – ever.

* * *

Three days later, Leon was cleared to return to duty. Three months ahead of his predicted schedule.

His first mission? Head of Security Ops for The President as he undertook a lengthy Good Will tour around the globe – visiting countries that had suffered under the reign of Bio Terror. It was a gruelling schedule, with very little time to actually see the places they visited – but Leon was back in his element. Back on the road, back doing what he did best. He worked right alongside the President, getting to know him on a more personal level. It was comforting, he seemed like a good man with a good set of morals and wants for his country.

For the most part the tour went without incident, although in Spain Leon and his team took down a small cell looking to cause trouble in the name of Los Illuminados, prior to the Presidents speech – and in Africa they neutralized an attack from a militia group before it could happen. The world was still on edge, it seemed.

They got the President home safe and sound five days before Christmas, a job well done. Leon returns to his apartment, dragging a suitcase behind him. He dumps it in his living room and picks up the pile of mail Sherry had left for him, leafing through. He finds a Christmas card from Elizabeth's mother, thanking him for everything. He'd sent out the medal and a lengthy letter to her before he left on the tour. It makes him smile, standing the card up on his kitchen counter.

He also finds a file left out for him – some more information on The Order and a growing link between them and Los Illuminados. It seemed the re-emergence of that cult in Spain was larger than originally thought, and they were connected directly to the man in black and his black market organization. It wasn't exactly festive news, and Leon grinds his teeth as he reads it over.

They needed to find out who this mystery man was, and they needed to take him out. He obviously had bigger plans than even they knew, and he was spreading like a virus through all the seedy, underground channels out there. The BSAA had sent in undercover agents in the hopes of outing the mystery man's identity sooner, rather than later. Leon wasn't sure how smart of an idea that was, he hoped whoever they'd sent in was a really – really good actor.

Sighing, he drops down the folder and heads to his bathroom to shower off the flight. He needed a drink, food, and sleep. Jetlag was a son of a bitch.

Once he's showered he dresses and heads down to Mike's bar, getting a burger and celebratory beer, ending up in the company of a particularly gorgeous blonde named Mia. She was all perfect tits and long legs, wrapped like a Christmas gift in a red dress. It had been a long time since he'd made a move on a girl, since before his injury actually. Almost an entire year without getting laid – Claire Redfield had been the last woman he'd had in his bed.

He takes Mia back to his place, the pair of them not even making it through his front door before they're all over each other. He mentally sends an apology to his neighbor for the noise, kicking the door shut behind him and lifting this beautiful creature off her feet, carrying her to the kitchen table. He sets her down and turns her around, bending her over it and rucking up the skirt of her dress. She moans and leans her ass back in to him as he peels her panties down to her thighs, parting her legs with a nudge of his feet. He undoes his belt and grabs protection from his wallet. A handful of her hair in one hand, he guides himself to her with the other. Burying himself inside her in one blissful, smooth push of his hips.

It's all he can do to keep his composure, after a year, he could be forgiven for unravelling in a heartbeat. But he gets his shit together and it ends up a long night to remember for both of them.

Leon Kennedy was officially back.

* * *

 **February 2nd, 2015**

The holiday season had passed peacefully, he'd spent Christmas day with Sherry and Jake – neither kid had surviving family, so instead they came around to his place and got drunk and they cooked something that passed for a Christmas dinner. Sherry continued to swear there was nothing between them, but maybe she was just scared, holding Jake back from it going anywhere. In a way, Leon was glad of it. He didn't want to have to break Jake's neck or anything. Though the more time he spent with the guy, the more he liked him. He was a solid, reliable kid with a smartass mouth that couldn't be told shit. It reminded Leon of himself. Sherry could do a lot – lot worse.

January had been a quiet month in the world of Bio Terror, thankfully. Leon had gone on a handful of short assignments alongside the President as he made some appearances, but other than that he had spent a lot of time on duty awaiting instruction. He'd done a lot of researching, looking in to The Order and their connections to Los Illuminados. Everything was sketchy, this 'man in black' covered his tracks very well, and it seemed a lot of people were very scared of him. The BSAA's undercover agent had yet to even meet him, let alone give them an identity.

He'd heard from Claire in the middle of the month, but it wasn't much more than a short – friendly phone call. The incident at Sonido de Tortuga island had turned in to a full on outbreak disaster. She'd reached out to Chris who'd sent a BSAA squad out there to extract her. A part of Leon wanted to tell her she could have called him – but something held him back. It was just no longer a conversation worth having, he supposed. She'd made herself pretty damn clear, and his wounds were healing over – why tear them open again?

"Kennedy!"

Leon stops in his tracks as he walks the halls of the DSO, looking back over his shoulder to see one of his superiors walking toward him, brandishing a file. As soon as their eyes meet, his superior gestures for him to follow. That never meant anything good. Leon turns back around and heads in to an office room after him, the door swung shut behind them.

"Let me guess, something's come up?" Leon asks as the folders dropped down on the desk in front of him.

"You could say that."

Leon reaches for the folder, picking it up and flipping it open. His eyes widen a little.

"We have intel from an undercover BSAA agent. The Order are planning a full scale attack on Washington D.C in three days time."

Leon's jaw clenches, reading over the information.

"With ground zero.."

"Being right here.." Leon finishes. A photo of the Benford Memorial Building pinned to a white board of plans sat amidst the intel. "Because of course, you want to throw the US in to chaos you take out this place. It's like cutting the head off a Hydra. Will slow us down long enough for them to pull off something else."

"We believe this very building is their primary target, yes. Explosives possibly laced with a new strain of virus – designed to spread through the city."

Leon scowls. "How very Derek Simmons of them."

"We have another undercover agent with details on where they're holding out, putting this shit together. We need you to lead a SWAT Team to the location, rendezvous with our Agent, and shut this the hell down."

Leon nods. "That I can do."

"Sooner we move on this the better."

"Better get started, then." Leon agrees. Flipping the folder shut.


	22. Vendetta

**Authors Note:** Okay, so – There's no official Canon timeline for when Vendetta took place. The book the movie was based on says it takes place just months after RE6 – others claim it's 2015-2016. With no official word, I'm going with early 2015. It's my world now, so go with it!

If you haven't seen the movie "Resident Evil: Vendetta" you might be a bit confused here. But hopefully I've covered enough without completely rehashing the film, for it to make sense. If you haven't read it yet, go and read the direct follow up "Whatever I Am, You Made Me" for closure on Leon's story.

Thankyou for taking the journey with me.

* * *

 **We wanted peace but you brought this war**  
 **We took enough and we can't take any more**  
 **With our fists in the air, we'll burn it all to the ground**  
 **We will tear your fucking empire down**

 **\- In This Moment**

* * *

In the quiet calm before an inevitable storm, Leon sits, armed to the teeth and scrolling through a report that had come in to the DSO offices as they left. A series of small outbreaks around the Great Lakes and the East Coast, limited to handfuls of people at a time and quickly contained. The latest being a single infected victim in New York, stumbled upon by a civilian which it then attacked, a woman named Ana Ashmore. She was rescued by two more civilians, one of which was bitten and also infected – before a team arrived to dispose of them. There seemed to be no traceable source in any of these minor incidents. No reported viral leaks, no full scale attacks, nothing. It was unsettling to say the least, something new was at play. It couldn't be naturally occurring – could it?

The BSAA were looking in to it, for now there was nothing for the DSO to get involved in. But he'd be listening out for more on the case.

Leon shuts down the tablet and tucks it away, resting his forearms across his knees and glancing to the side – at his team as they prepared to hit the rendezvous point, meet the DSO's undercover agent and take down this terrorist plan before it could gain traction. He should have known. He should have known things were going too smoothly.

The transport comes to a stop and they exit the vehicle, half the men on this squad he knew – had worked with them before. Good people, family men and one woman that was a single mother with twin boys at home. Hard working, decent, all they wanted was to make the country a safer place for their kids and their families to live in. Each of them deadly. Each of them the kind of person you'd want at your back when shit went sideways. Leon had no reason to think there was a traitor in their midst – and he had no reason to think the rabbit hole of deception stretched in to the heart of the DSO. Stupid, really. After the betrayals he'd been subjected to over the past few years, you'd think he'd be on the look out for it everywhere.

Maybe he'd wanted to trust again. Just one more time.

He learns his lesson that day.

They're scaling flights of stairs in to a building, weapons drawn, ready to sweep and clear whatever resistance they came across. The intel seemed good. Their contact reliable. Everything was going according to plan. Until Leon hits the first step of the third flight of stairs and a sharp, electric bolt of pain shoots from his abdomen through his groin. It's intense, it makes him hiss and stop in his tracks, clutching at his midsection.

"You okay?" One of his team asks.

Leon nods, gesturing for him to keep going. "I'm fine, I'll catch up."

They all knew about his injury, but he wasn't questioned. He just needed a second – which was humiliating enough on its own. He was supposed to be the best of the best, yet this injury still plagued him. He grits his teeth, leaning against the wall. The intense pain passes and his team have moved to the next floor. He turns to take the steps with his gun back in his hands and the world suddenly ends around him.

There's a flash of light, followed by a deafening boom. A rumbling sound, the building beginning to collapse. Fire, smoke, the smell of searing flesh. Screams of pain. Had he been suddenly plunged in to hell? He's buried under a pile of rubble and noise, dust choking his lungs, he couldn't breathe. The heat from the fire above.. no air. A slab of wall and stairwell crushes his ribs, pinning him in place. And in his dazed, confused state, all he can hear is them dying. Seemed like it came from all around him, and he couldn't reach them. He couldn't move. He couldn't help.

Leon listened to the dying cries of his entire team, pinned in the burning stairwell of a destroyed building. There's shouting in his ear, chaos over the comms. He blacks out.

If he never woke to the sound of a heart monitor ever again, that would be fine with him. Only this time there's nothing slow about his awakening. He jolts awake, his eyes flying open, his entire body jerking as he sits up and grabs the side rails of the hospital bed he was on. He wrenches the oxygen mask off his face and alarms start going off around him.

"Mr Kennedy! I need you to lie back for me..."

"Where the fuck am I?"

"You're at the hospital, you were involved in an explosion. A terrorist attack. Please.. lie back."

He felt panicked, how many months had he been out this time? How much more of his life was lost? What had happened? Where were his team? "How.. how long was I out?" it's the first question that escapes his jumbled brain. He felt dizzy, light headed still.

"A couple of hours, maximum. They freed you from the rubble first, you were lucky.. Mr Kennedy. The stairwell level you were standing in didn't collapse completely, it protected you." The Doctor standing over him explains. Leon blinks, staring up at him. Taking him in.

"Protected.." he wheezes, his lungs felt full of sand. The Doctor puts the oxygen mask back over his face.

"I need you to keep that on. You've inhaled a lot of smoke and debris, your lungs are struggling."

He lets his head fall back, staring up at the ceiling. He could hear the chaos around him, the hospital or medical facility or wherever they'd brought him dealing with the others involved. He couldn't take it all in.

Again. He was here again. He'd only just been cleared.

The Doctor injects something in to his IV and tells him it's to help his lungs. Leon closes his eyes, not fighting it anymore.

What was the point?

But even unconsciousness doesn't bring him respite. It taunts him with nightmares, replaying horrors, memories that sat inside lurking in the dark. He wakes with a sharp, painful intake of breath, eyes opening and blinking. They burned. Instantly there's someone at his side, taking his hand.

"Leon?"

"Sherry?" he croaks.

"Oh thank God." She sounded so relieved, and she was. She'd seen enough of him in hospital beds to last a lifetime. So had he.

"My team.. is everybody?" He manages, coming around a little more. Lifting his head. But the look on Sherry's face tells him everybody isn't fine.

"You should speak to your superior about that..."

"Tell me." he demands, "Sherry, how many?"

She swallows, looking down at his hand held in hers. "You were the only one."

He stares at her, licking his dry lips. "They're still getting the others out?"

"No.." she says sadly, "you were the only one to make it, Leon. They died."

Leon blinks, then closes his eyes, letting his head fall back.

"The part of the stairwell you were in was the only section of the building that didn't completely collapse. Four of them died in the explosion itself.. the others.." she trails off. How ironic, the injury that had plagued him for over a year had ended up saving his stupid life. Again. He survived again. The only one. Again.

"What happened?" he whispers it, he didn't have the strength or will left in him to raise his voice.

"It.. I don't know if I should be telling you this.." Sherry replies just as quietly.

"Just tell me."

She clears her throat, looking toward the door in to his room and then back to him. "We don't have all the details yet but it looks like the DSO's undercover Agent was.. a double agent. He was relaying The Order everything. And they think one of the SWAT team was also in on it."

Leon groans. The deceptions just kept coming. The betrayals, they never seemed to end. What was the point in fighting this fight if you couldn't trust a single person in it?

"It was a trap." She continues with a small, sad shrug. "We received a message at the DSO offices a moment after it happened. Warning us, to stay out of their business, that they had eyes everywhere. That we'd be fed false information.." She shakes her head, "everyones.. kinda in shock."

"So there was no attack planned on the city?" He asks, "they just wanted to send a strong message?"

"Don't fuck with us, basically." She confirms.

Leon finds himself grinding his teeth, anger surging through him. But alongside it, a feeling of hopelessness. This was never going to end, they were never going to win this war. It would just go on and on until it ruined them all. When you couldn't trust anybody you couldn't build an effective defense, or offense. He felt defeated, and he'd led a team of good men and women to their deaths. Sent them on ahead when he was too weak to go with them. He should have died with them. It should have been him.

"Leon, it's not your fault." Sherry seems to read his mind and he re-opens his eyes, looking at her. He sits himself up, plucking the heart monitor tabs off of him. "Don't, stay where you are. They said your lungs were bad."

"I don't care." He rumbles, yanking the IV from his arm. "I can't do this again."

"It's just for the night." She insists. Alarms starting to bleep on the monitors as he ripped away everything keeping him there.

"Where's my clothes?"

"They had to cut them off you, I bought.." She gestures to a bag on an armchair near by. He kicks his legs out of the bed and grabs it. There's suddenly a nurse in the room, telling him he needed monitoring.

"I don't need monitoring, I need to go the fuck home." He snaps, furious. "I need a fucking drink, so unless you got a vodka IV available, I'm leaving."

They try, but keeping Leon somewhere he doesn't want to be is impossible. And he wanted as far away from everything and everyone as was humanly possible. Sherry follows him swiftly down the corridor of the familiar medical facility, he felt like he'd only just left this place. He never wanted to see it again.

Outside, the cold night air hits him like a wall and he begins coughing, which in turn makes the healed wound to his abdomen scream at him. He doesn't show Sherry the blood in his palm when he gets the coughing fit under control.

"You should go back in.." Sherry pleads with him.

"They can't help me." He shakes his head.

"Leon please.. you're scaring me." She grabs his arm as he goes to walk away from her. He laughs a little, looking back at her.

"How do you think I feel?" He asks flatly.

Something in his eyes makes her feel colder than the night air. She'd seen him miserable, she'd seen him drunk and depressed. She'd never seen him look so.. haunted. "You can't blame yourself for this." She whispers desperately.

"I don't." He shrugs casually, "I blame this fucking circus we're stuck in. It's never going to end, Sherry. Never. Sooner or later it'll catch up to us. It'll probably kill you, I'll have to put you in the ground. Like everybody else." He says it so flippantly it makes her stomach turn. "What's the point? What are we even doing? Just delivering more and more good people to their deaths and getting fucking nowhere."

"That's not true." She shakes her head.

"Maybe not for you." He pulls his arm out of her grip and stalks off in to the night. She watches him go, her mind racing. Then hurries to her car in the parking lot.

She chases him down, quite why he thought he was walking all the way home, she didn't know. She drives up beside him and lowers the window. "Let me drive you home at least."

He glowers at her through his blackened hair.

"Please, its miles."

Eventually he agrees and the drive back to his place is a somber, quiet one. He doesn't speak, he just sits with his head leaned against the window, gazing out of it as the night streets roll by. She doesn't try to strike up conversation, what could she possibly say to him? He'd cheated death yet again, he'd led a whole team of people to their deaths, he'd probably heard them die. She wipes away a tear of empathy for him, he didn't need to see her cry. But she prayed so hard he'd get through this. It wasn't fair – how did so much awful shit keep happening to someone that just didn't deserve it? Was this the price you paid for being a hero? You save the world and it kicks you in the face?

Was this it for them?

She could feel the despondency too. Who could you trust when you were sold out by your own people?

"Want me to come up?" She asks as she parks outside his place. Leon shakes his head.

"Just.. need to be alone a while." He mutters.

"Well, I'll check in on you tomorrow."

He nods.

"Please be okay.." she almost pleads him.

He just nods again. Letting himself out of the car and taking his things as she hands them to him. He returns to his apartment, shutting the door, shutting out the world.

Shaking. The weight of the world falls down around him. He couldn't do this again. He draws the gun he kept strapped under the kitchen counter and he holds it under his chin. Finger on the trigger, his chest rising and falling heavily as he tells himself to just do it. Just end it. Because he can't survive this again. He can't be the only one – again.

He closes his eyes, that finger squeezing.

His phone bleeps. For some reason, he picks it up. Staring at the message that had arrived in his inbox.

It's just a joke. A simple, funny joke. Sent with a smiley face attached and signed _'Claire xx'_

He drops the gun and falls apart.

* * *

In the morning, there's a note pinned to his door. The Order knew where he lived. The note tells him he might want to check on his squad, because they had a parting gift for him. He shouldn't do it, he should inform the DSO. He should give someone else the heads up. But instead he heads out to the morgue with his Sentinel strapped to his thigh and flashes his Government ID. Allowed in, he's directed to where the bodies of the fallen SWAT Team killed in yesterdays Terrorist Attack were being held. His footsteps felt heavy, like he was moving through tar and a neverending nightmare.

He isn't surprised by what he finds. He isn't surprised when a slight noise wakes them up.

Leon shoots each of his team. Killing them again. Finally laying them to rest. When he exits the building his superiors are waiting for him, picking him up and taking him to the Benford Memorial Building. He's debriefed. He's told he's being put on an indefinite medical leave with government ordered therapy as a result of the attack and his subsequent erratic behavior, as well as for his own protection.

Perfect.

Whatever.

"They know where I live, so I should probably skip town. If you want me alive, anyway." He shrugs.

"You have a home in Colorado, don't you?" His Superior asks quite gently.

"Yeah."

"Then it would probably be a good idea to go there for a while. Or maybe just get a hotel somewhere. We'll pick up the tab."

Leon nods, he didn't care.

He didn't care. About any of it. Alive or dead, what's the difference?

He packs a few things and leaves town.

He drinks.

* * *

 **4 Months Later**

He grips the hips of the Hotels head waitress and drives himself in to her hard and fast. His breaths coming in ragged pants as she filled the room with her cries. Her hands braced against the rattling headboard, Leon fucked her from behind. He felt himself getting closer to that blissful oblivion and grabs her hair, she seemed to like the rougher stuff and encourages him. He pushes her face down in to the pillows, quieting her noise hammering her into the mattress. He spirals in to his release and slams his own hand against the headboard, burying himself in her and growling in to the crook of her shoulder and neck.

Bliss. The only few moments in a day where the world melted away and he forgot all his problems. He dissolved in to her pussy and nothing mattered. Leaving him a panting, sweaty heap. Body covering hers.

But after a while, it all starts to come flooding back. That dull ache in his middle, that burn in his lungs, the memories. The bullshit. The betrayal. Now he just wanted her gone. He pulls from her and pads off to the bathroom to take care of things, returning with his pants back on to find her getting dressed. He smiles at her.

"I have a shift so I should get going." She straightens her dress, leaning in to kiss his cheek. He quirks an eyebrow.

"Oh, just a booty call am I?" He jokes, relieved she obviously shared his same mindset.

"Absolutely." She smacks his ass, "consider yourself used."

He actually laughs. It was refreshing. "Somehow I'll survive."

She winks at him and redoes her lipstick in the mirror, then twists the cap back on and drops it into her purse. "If you're in town a while maybe we can do it again."

He nods. "Sounds good." He kicks back on the bed and watches her let herself out.

Alcohol and meaningless sex. Leon was in full coping mode and he had been for a while. He'd returned to his home in Colorado, attempted to work on fixing up his Gran Torino but his vodka consumption had gotten in the way of doing a decent job. He'd hit the road for a while, taking one of his bikes out and riding from place to place. He'd ended up at a hotel in the Rocky Mountains and for some reason he had stayed. It was quiet, close to a small town, nobody really bothered him and it felt far enough away from the rest of the world that he could be left alone with his thoughts. Nobody knew him here, nobody cared who he was.

With the DSO picking up the tab, he'd gotten one of the nicer rooms and was running up a hefty tab. What did it matter?

He reaches for the half empty bottle of vodka on the bedside dresser and twists off the cap, drinking directly from it. He watches TV and drinks until he passes out.

In the morning, he's woken by the sun beating down on the side of his face. He groans, covering his thumping head with a pillow for a while, before deciding it was too hot and getting himself up. He drags himself in to a shower, clearing some of the cobwebs of his hangover, then half-heartedly shaves. It was like he couldn't bring himself to care about anything, not even how he looked. Just going through the motions of existing. If he stepped outside and was hit by a car he'd probably survive it and it would just be more bullshit memories for him to deal with.

Maybe he couldn't die. Maybe he was just here to show other people to their deaths.

He dresses. Jeans, his usual two stripe leather jacket. Heading down to the Hotels restaurant bar to get some breakfast. He orders eggs and bacon and toast and coffee – he flirts with the waitress. When he's done with his food he asks for a bottle of vodka. Today, he felt like being out of his mind by the afternoon. He's brought the bottle and a glass, making a start on it.

By 1pm, it's almost empty. Leon's considering going outside for some air and maybe throwing up in a bush when he hears the familiar, heavy footsteps of combat boots. His heart sinks and with his back to the door of the place, he hopes it's just someone that liked to wear them to hike in. Though it's not all he hears. The sound of body armor – yes, it had a sound. He groans a little to himself, downing the last of his glass and cradling it there in his hands. Two of them. Two of them drawing up behind him.

"Careful you don't scare the locals. Your stealth's for shit." He mutters.

"It's a little early to be that deep in to a bottle, Leon." Chris fucking Redfield. Because of course. Leon turns in his seat to see Rebecca Chambers standing there too.

"Well look who it is! The BSAA's Golden Boy and Doctor High Hopes!" He smirks, "the hell do you want?"

"We've got a job, we need your help." Redfield doesn't even say hello. Typical.

"I'm on vacation." Leon retorts, looking away from them.

"Lets talk about Los Illuminados. Remember the type of B.O.W's they were using?" Rebecca moves to his side, putting some case down on the table across from him.

"So long ago I don't remember." He lies. He wanted them to go away.

"So what, you're just gonna sit around another week and do nothing?" Chris asks, flanking him.

"I never make plans that far ahead." That much was true, at least. He spots the waitress as she moves past and reaches out, asking for another bottle.

Redfield interjects. Cancelling the order.

"What – do you want – Redfield?" Leon snarls. Annoyed by their presence. How hard was it to just be left alone? Why couldn't the fucking world understand, he was done with this shit. Even his own employers realized this fact. Chris could take the BSAA and his bullshit and he could shove it up his ass.

"Guys, come on. Leon, I'm sorry to interrupt your vacation, but we wouldn't be here if it wasn't serious." Rebecca sits down in front of him, breaking up the tension. Leon sighs, leaning back in his seat and staring at her. The last time he'd seen her, she'd been helping cure Elizabeth. Did she even know the girl was dead?

Sweet Lizzie. Another innocent he'd led to her death.

"We think you might have some intel and we need it, now." She continues.

Leon sighs, closing his eyes for a moment and then giving a little shake of his head. "What intel?"

Boy does he wish he'd never asked. As the two of them sit there and unload some story about a virus that could wipe out whole states at a time. All with one big connection to Los Illuminados. Because why not? Why wouldn't it all be the same fucking thing? These cults and criminals and terrorists all working together to fuck up the world.

Why bother? He felt like grabbing Redfield by his stupid armor and screaming it at him. Why fucking bother? These people were hell bent on destroying humanity, the world, everything. Why not let them? Sooner or later it always caught up to you. Their war was a fucking waste of time.

"I keep fighting. And fighting and fighting and instead of seeing an end to this shit it just keeps getting worse." He scowls. It was something of a plea. A hope that they'd listen and take this bullshit away from him. He'd had enough, he was tired, he couldn't do it again.

But they keep going. Redfield turns a red laptop to face him and shows him a grainy image of some well dressed asshole. Naming him 'Glenn Arias'. It meant nothing to Leon. Nothing at all. A black market arms dealer that ended up on the Governments hit list. They bombed his wedding, killing everybody he loved. And now he had a grudge against America. Were they really fucking surprised? Leon looks at Redfield like he's an idiot.

The Government had been fucking the good guys as well as the bad guys for as long as Leon could remember. Simmons had Adam killed. The VP ordered the death of an innocent child. One of his own people had almost gotten him killed. Who were the bad guys again?

It's a question that doesn't sit well with Redfield. Another of their knock down drag out fights brewing if not for Rebecca, who interjects with reason and calm. Mostly, Leon's just had too much to drink to fight with them. He also really needed to piss.

Targeted B.O.W's, vaccines, viruses. His head hurt.

It's only when the man that sold out Leon and his team arrives, that the switch is flipped in Leon's head. If he could rip off Patricios skin and feed it to him, he would.

But as the hotels torn apart by heavy gunfire, Leon doesn't need to step in to the fight. It's brought right to him. Once again, it left him without any choices.

And Rebecca was right. He couldn't sit by and watch the world end.

" _If we don't, who will?"_

She'd asked him that once. Now she needed his help.

One more job.

* * *

"Have you told him?" Nadia asks Chris quietly as they co-ordinate the plan to rescue New York City. Leon Kennedy had agreed to help them, and he'd brought his brilliant mind with him. Despite the amount of alcohol he'd drunk. They'd given him water and Red Bull and he'd sobered up pretty well.

Rebecca had been taken by that madman, Glenn Arias. New York was under attack. The A-Virus. An airborne strain delivered to a population via water and then triggered by a gas. It could be cured. The plan was to find Rebecca, administer the cure to the population of New York City, and take down Glenn Arias once and for all. For Chris it was pretty damn personal, this man had cost him friends.

But for Leon, it might be even more so. Perhaps more than he could handle. Everybody had warned him that Kennedy was close to the edge, he hadn't realized just how much until he saw him in that bar. The man looked broken and lost. Not the usual strong, confident, borderline cocky guy he knew.

"I'm worried if we tell him, it'll tip him over the edge." Chris admits to his Silver Dagger partner.

Nadia sighs, looking over as Leon loads his guns.

"But if you don't.. and he finds out later.." She warns. "He deserves to know."

Chris looks at her, chewing this over for a moment. He sighs heavily. Why were women always right? Why did he surround himself with ones that usually were? Nadia was as bad as Jill. He gets to his feet, crossing the cabin of the chopper and coming to sit just opposite Leon.

Leon locks a clip in to place and looks at him.

"Another hour." Chris says.

Leon nods.

"Listen, there's something else you need to know."

Leon's eyebrow lifts, holstering his gun. "What? It gets worse?"

"I suppose that depends on how you look at it." Chris says carefully.

Leon frowns. "So, tell me."

"In Yakushima. The man you fought in that cave.. the man that took Jill and my team." He gestures a little to Leon, "the man that almost cost you your life."

Leon stares at him.

"It's Glenn Arias."

Silence.

"After the government bombed his wedding he went underground for four years. Moved from black market arms to Bio Weapons. Manufacture and sale. It was one of our undercover agents that finally put the pieces together, and she paid with her life."

Leon continues to stare at him.

"Should have told you back at the bar. But, I was worried it would throw your focus. Or tip you over the edge or.. something." Chris sighs.

Leon blinks. Taking in the information. "You should have opened with that." He says flatly.

Chris looks a little worried.

"Lets tear his fucking face off." Leon adds.

Chris' worried expression becomes a smirk.

* * *

 **2 years Later**

 **February 1** **st** **, 2017**

Leon Kennedy remained in the fight. After he, Chris Redfield and Rebecca Chambers saved New York and restored a good portion of the population to health he somewhat reluctantly returned to duty. Rebecca's words continued to echo in his ears. If they didn't, then who would? There was a finite selection of people in the world that could fight this war, and he was one of them.

Besides, he didn't have anything better to do. No relationships, no family, nothing. He might as well stay in the fight until he was dead. What other way was there to go out for a man like him? Dying of liver failure just didn't seem like a grand enough end. He was going to go out in a blaze of glory at some point. He kind of welcomed the day, he often sat and wondered when it would come. When it would be his time and how it would happen. Maybe it would be falling down the throat of some gigantic B.O.W. Maybe it would be in a hail of gunfire. Maybe he'd tear down a building or fall in to a volcano. It would be interesting finding out, at least.

Leon lived now to find out how he'd die.

It was morbid. But it was good for the world.

The jobs came and went. He went through the motions. He ceased really feeling anything at all. He arrived – he fought the monster – he bled in buckets – he went home and drank. An endless cycle of fighting, drinking and nameless women. He crossed off days on a calendar, each one signifying a day he didn't die.

It would come. Sooner or later. And he'd finally be free.

"Kennedy."

"Yeah." He replies, chewing gum and gazing at the chopper that was about to take him to his next assignment.

"BSAA team arrived. Heres the file." He's handed a folder and he flips it open, looking over the brief.

Alaska. A parasite in the ice and some dead scientists. A missing team out there already.

He sighs, "hope someone's got a warmer coat I can use." it's his entire comment on the situation.

The BSAA arrive and they load in to the chopper, taking off and leaving the Utah wilderness behind. Leon leans back against the wall of the helicopter and gazes out of the window, watching the endless green nothing pass by as the sun dipped below the hills. Soon they're flying in darkness, it's hard to make out much. He flips open his phone, the battery bleeping at him.

"Ugh." he forgot to charge the fucking thing. Great. He reads a message from Sherry telling him she and Jake were being sent back to Spain to tackle Los Illuminados. He manages to return a message to her, wishing her luck and telling her to stay safe, before his phone dies. Dead as a doornail. "Awesome." he mutters to himself, shoving the thing in to the inner pocket of his leather jacket.

The cabins suddenly lit up, a flash of lightning streaking across the sky.

The Pilot comes over the comms.

"Heavy thunderstorm on our route, we're going to try and go around it."

"Where are we?" Leon asks.

"Montana."

He nods. Not too far to the rendezvous point.

"Do it." he responds.

Another flash of lightning streaks across the sky. Thunder rumbles all around.

Leon closes his eyes and rests his head against the window. It sounded like the world was coming to an end.

* * *

 **-END-**


	23. Epilogue: Full Circle

**Authors Note: DO NOT READ THIS EPILOGUE UNLESS YOU HAVE ALREADY READ "WHATEVER I AM, YOU MADE ME" -** None of this will make ANY sense if you do. Go and read that first, then come back to this for the end to Leon's story. To everybody that has read it already, enjoy, and thankyou for reading.

* * *

 **Somerset, England – August 2023**

Leon's woken by the sound of his wife Ana quietly moaning at his side. She was measuring her breathing, in slowly through her nose and out slowly through her mouth. Her hand circled her rounded belly and she had her eyes closed. He lifts his head, studying her in the dark. Having to speak before she noticed he's awake.

"You alright?" he asks quietly, moving his hand to smooth over her heavily pregnant tummy.

She nods, a dip of her chin, then releases a breath through her mouth and opens her eyes, looking at him with pain in them. She changes her nod to a small shake.

He sits up, looking down at her. "Think its time?"

"Hm.." she makes a small noise, clearly in too much pain for words.

He's on his feet, pulling on sweatpants and a shirt and grabbing his phone. 2am. These things always happened in the middle of the night.

"I'll call ahead, and get Jen." He tells her, holding a hand out to her about to tell her to stay put when he realizes what a stupid thing to say that is. She wasn't going anywhere. She just nods at him, closing her eyes again, breathing as the labor pains gripped her body.

This wasn't their first rodeo. Since Leon had been discharged from the army and moved to the UK, he'd been a busy man. He'd met this gorgeous goddess in a seaside bar at Christmas and he'd fallen hopelessly and completely in love. Ana was his world. His angel sent to heal a damaged soul. He had a big chunk of his life missing, amnesia brought on by getting caught in the detonation of a land mine overseas. But it didn't matter – she completed him. Tamed his warrior heart. They had a farm in the Somerset hills and a three year old son, their second child on his or her way, tonight – apparently!

Five years, three of them married, and two kids. He'd been a busy guy! He loved every second of it, being a husband and a father was a kind of indescribable fulfilment. He felt like he was meant to do it, born to be a dad to his son and whoever was coming. Two was their limit, they'd agreed together. Secretly, he hoped for a girl.

They owned a rural country pub that was part of the farm, and a myriad of horses, ducks, sheep and goats. He also had a garage and fixed up vintage cars as part hobby, part paid work. It was a calling, cars were just his thing. Cars and bikes.

And Ana – his beautiful Ana. His tag team partner, his soulmate, the woman who could look at him with those bright, sparkling eyes and make any day better. Some called him unlucky for getting blown up in the desert and losing half his memories. But it brought him here, and that made him the luckiest man alive. They lived a simple, peaceful life, and he couldn't remember ever being happier.

Leon hurries down the hall of their comfortable country home and calls Jen, the manager of their bar who lived above it. Waking her from sleep, though it was an expected call now, with Ana 9 months pregnant and a week past her due date. Jen would babysit their son while Leon took Ana to the hospital. At least that was the plan – but it seemed like after making them wait, their little bundle of joy was suddenly in a big rush. He's just taking an overnight bag out to the car when he hears her calling for him.

"LEON!"

He throws the bag in the back seat and jogs back into the house, taking the stairs two at a time and heading back into their bedroom. She'd pulled the covers back and was out of bed, standing, her hands braced on it instead. "Oh, damn.." his eyes go wide. Her water had broken, she looked miserable and wet and in pain. He didn't know what to do first. Quickly deciding, he first ties his long, shoulder length hair back from his face and then he moves over to her and rubs her back with one hand. Through the birth of their son she'd liked her lower back rubbed, he hopes its the same this time.

"Hmmmmmm" Ana moans.

"Breathe, sweetheart.." he tells her softly. Dialling emergency services, he lifts his phone to his ear.

"999, what's your emergency?"

"My wife's in labor. Her water broke.." He says quickly, hearing Jen arrive in the house downstairs and call out to him.

"How far apart are the contractions?" The operator asks.

"Like, every minute.."

The operator quickly informs him she's sending paramedics to them immediately, but tells him to stay on the phone. His heart is suddenly gripped by a feeling that he's completely out of his depth, as he's told he might have to be the one that delivers the baby.

He'd been in the army, he could do this.

"Oh! Jeez.. that's happening, okay!..." Jen makes a face as she comes in and sees the situation for herself. "I'll take care of Ben!"

Ana suddenly wails, and Leon mouths 'thankyou' at Jen as she leaves.

He's told to let Ana get comfortable. He helps her out of her wet pajamas and in to a shirt of his. It was the most helpless feeling, watching your wife go through so much pain and not really being able to do anything. He rubs her back, he makes the checks the operator instructs him through. This baby was not wasting any time.

"As the baby delivers you'll need to support its head and shoulders. Do you have any dry, clean towels to hand?"

He flusters, grabbing what he needed.

Ana ends up on the hard wood floor, leaning back against their bed, gripping the mattress behind her and wailing.

"You got this sweetheart," he looks at her. Women.. they were the strongest beings on earth. Her long dark hair plastered to her face, the sheer effort and strain of what she was doing is awe inspiring. He pins the phone between his shoulder and ear – he was really doing this. Delivering their baby on the floor of their bedroom. Less than an hour ago he'd been dreaming about cheesecake.

The operator talks him through, and Ana yells the house down. As the paramedics pull up outside, he helps deliver his baby daughter in to the world. Gathering her up with tears in his eyes and the biggest smile on his face, placing her on Ana's chest. Ana wraps her up, sobbing too. Relief and love in its purest form. He kisses his wife's forehead.

"I love you."

"I love you too." She whispers back, their lips meeting.

The paramedics arrive in the room to check over Ana and the baby. He thanks the 999 operator and hangs up, sitting back, watching intently as his girls are taken care of and thoroughly checked over.

"Daddy?" His son shuffles in to the room, Jen slightly behind him.

"Hey, your sisters here." He grins, holding his arms out to his little boy.

"Sister?" The three year old, Ben, looks curious and hurries over in to his arms.

As if on cue, the baby girl lets out a wail. Welcome to the world, little one.

He lifts his eldest in to his lap, watching over his girls like the fierce protector he was. He would die for them. But hopefully he'd never have to.

Ana is eventually helped to her feet and in to the bathroom to clean up. Their daughter is handed to him. A squirming, grumbling bundle of tiny limbs. The grin on his face, she looked like her mother, but had his sandy blonde hair. Sapphire eyes that looked up to him in wonder and curiosity. "Heyyy, princess." He smiles at her, tucking the blanket back from her cheek a little.

She grabs his little finger with a tiny hand. But she already had him wrapped around hers.

Once Ana's made comfortable and settled in bed, he sits beside her, cradling their daughter.

"She has your eyes," Ana whispers, gazing lovingly at her husband.

"And she's as beautiful as her mother," he replies in kind, gently kissing her brow.

By some strange twist of fate, or maybe it was written in the stars. They call her Elizabeth Eve.


End file.
